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'ihiiii||iii|iiliii':iiiiiii:iiif:i.quiiiwiE:jiaraiiiiiiiia;jr,Li!:)]/i:Miiii:;iiii^iri;: 'a^     u  i  i|ii|iiiiiiii'fi,ir|i||,iii!;iii: 


WALKS  AND  HOMES 


OF 


JESUS 


BY    THE 

Rev.   DANIEL'  march,  D.D. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRESBYTERIAN  PUBLICATION  COMMITTEE, 

1334  CHESTNUT  STREET. 

NEW   TOUK  :    A.   D.    F.    RANDOLPH,   770   BROADWAY. 


/a-^^ 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

WM.  L.  IIILDEBURN,  Treasurer, 

in  ti'ust  for  the. 

PRESBYTERIAN  PUBLICATION  COMMITTEE, 

[n  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Distiict  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 

Westcott  &  Thomson, 
Stereotypers. 


PEEFACE. 


N  the  composition  of  the  following  pages  an  at- 
tempt has  been  made  to  look  upon  our  Lord  as 
he  was  seen  by  the  men  of  his  time,  and  to 
combine  with  that  view  the  more  mature  and 
instructed  impressions  which  spring  from  faith  in  his  re- 
deeming work  and  his  divine  nature.  Taking  the  Gospel  rec- 
ord for  our  guide,  and  keeping  the  present  aspect  of  Pales- 
tine ever  in  mind,  we  have  sought  an  introduction  to  the 
HOMES  where  he  dwelt ;  we  have  ventured  to  join  him 
in  his  earthly  WALKS.  The  natural  features  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  known  customs  of  the  time  have  been  wrought 
into  the  sketches  with  some  degree  of  freedom,  in  order  to 
set  forth  the  human  and  historic  reality  of  the  divine  Per- 
sonage, whose  abode  with  men  is  the  greatest  event  in  all 
the  past,  and  whose  death  on  the  cross  for  the  world's  salva- 
tion, will  continue  to  be  the  wonder  of  ages  and  of  eternity. 
The  towns  and  cities,  in  which  our  Lord  made  his  abode, 
have  indeed  greatly  changed  with  the  lapse  of  time,  and 
some  of  them  can  scarcely  be  identified.  But  still,  the 
natural  features  of  the  country  confirm  the  inspired  record 
beyond  all  question,  and  the  sacred  localities,  so  far  as  rec- 

3 


4  PREFACE. 

ognised,  help  us  greatly  in  giving  form  and  reality  to  our 
faith  in  the  great  fact  of  the  divine  incarnation.  We  find 
it  easier  to  believe  that  the  Son  of  God  Avas  seen  on  earth 
in  fashion  as  a  man,  when  we  gaze  on  the  field  v>'here  angels 
announced  his  birth ;  when  we  visit  the  secluded  vale 
where  he  was  hidden  from  the  world  for  thirty  years ;  when 
we  climb  the  mount  where  he  was  seen  in  his  glory  ;  when 
we  Avalk  upon  the  silent  shore  of  the  sea  of  Galilee ;  when 
we  descend  the  slope  of  Olivet  and  cross  the  Kidron,  or 
muse  beneath  the  olive  trees  of  Gethseraane.  These  "  holy 
places,"  however  changed  by  time,  or  desecrated  by  super- 
stition, still  help  us  to  see  Jesus  as  he  was  in  the  world, 
and  so  more  fully  to  believe  in  the  truths  which  he  taught 
and  the  work  which  he  accomplished. 

It  has  not  been  thought  necessary  or  appropriate,  in  a 
purely  practical  work,  to  assign  reasons  or  authorities  for 
a  few  assumptions  that  have  been  made,  such  as  that  Tabor 
is  the  mount  of  the  Transfiguration,  Tell  Hum  the  site 
of  Capernaum,  the  Horns  of  Hattin  the  scene  of  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount. 

The  writer  has  found  the  task  of  visiting  the  Homes  and 
tracing  the  Walks  of  Jesus  with  men,  its  own  reward.  He 
would  fain  hope,  that  what  has  been  written,  may  awaken 
in  some  reader's  heart,  a  desire  for  a  closer  Walk  with 
Jesus  on  earth,  and  for  a  blessed  Home  with  him  forever 
in  heaven. 


CONTENTS. 


i^ie« 


I. 
BETHLEHEM 9 

II. 

NAZARETH 45 

III. 
CAPERNAUM 67 

IV. 

BETHESDA 123 

V. 

TABOR , 145 

vi. 

JERICHO 175 

VII. 

BETHANY 197 

VIII. 

JERUSALEM 293 

1  *  5 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Fishermen  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee 

Bethlehem 

Wilderness  of  Judea.  Yiew  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Gate  of  Adullam,  looking  Eastward  to  the  Mountains 
of  Moab  beyond  the  Dead  Sea 

The  Birth  of  Christ 

The  Flight  into  Egypt 

Modern  Nazareth 

View  from  above  Nazareth,  looking  Southward 

The  Sea  of  Tiberias 

Christ  Feeding  the  Five  Thousand 

Distant  View  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee 

The  Healing  at  the  Pool  of  Bethesda 

Mount  Tabor,  South  Face 

Ancient  Castle  on  the  Road  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem.. 

Modern  Bethany..... 

Pass  in  the  Ro.U)  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho 

The  Entry  to  Jerusalem 

Valley  of  Kepron  antd  Mount  of  Ouves 

Pathway  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem,  with  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane  and  South  East  Corner  of  the  Wall 
of  Jerusalem 

Olive  Trees  in  Gethsemane 

6 


Frontispiece.     liei'.  S.  C.  Malan. 


F.  Graham,  Photo. 

16 

W.  L.  Sheppard. 

38 

W.  L.  Sheppard. 

42 

48 

Ri'v.  S.  a  Malan. 

54 

Rev.  S.  a  Malan. 

67 

W.  L.  Sheppard. 

100 

107 

W.  L.  Sheppard. 

129 

149 

Rev.  H.  S.  Osborn. 

175 

198 

Rev.  S.  C.  Malan. 

204 

W.  L.  Sheppard. 

296 

' 

299 

F.  Graham.  Photo. 
F.  Graham.  Photo. 


306 
309 


BETHLEHEM 


Let  us  no-JJ  go  even  unto  Bethlehem,  and  see  this  thing  tvhich 
is  cone  to  pass^  v.hich  the  Lord  hath  made  knozvn  unto  us. — 
Luke  ii.  15. 


\ 


Walks  and  Homes  of  Jesus. 


I. 

BETHLEHEM. 

HE  one  name,  which  makes  Palestine 
"  The  Holy  Land"  for  all  the  world 
and  for  all  time,  is  JESUS. 
The  three  places  of  surpassing  interest  in 
the  earthly  life  of  Jesus,  are  Bethlehem, 
Nazareth,  Jerusalem.  In  all  our  studies  of  his 
divine  work  and  character,  we  feel  ourselves 
drawn  with  peculiar  attraction  to  the  manger 
where  he  was  born,  to  the  home  where  he  lived, 
to  the  cross  where  he  died.  Over  Bethlehem, 
the  star  of  hope  dawned  upon  a  darkened  and 
despairing  world.  At  ]^^azareth,  the  divine 
Life  dwelt  in  the  habitations  of  men.  On  Cal- 
vary, the  conflict  with  death  w^as  complete,  and 
the  cross  of  shame  was  changed  to  the  sceptre 
of  power  and  the  throne  of  glory.     The  benig- 


10  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

nant  heavens  shed  sweet  influences,  and  the 
angel  host  sung  for  joy,  over  the  divine  birth 
at  Bethlehem.  The  wondering  heavens  looked 
down  in  silence,  and  the  waiting  angels  hushed 
their  songs,  while  the  divine  Life  walked  unre- 
cognized, side  by  side  with  peasants  and  car- 
penters, for  thirty  years  among  the  hills  of 
Nazareth.  The  witnessing  heavens  put  on 
sackcloth  of  astonishment,  and  the  convulsed 
earth  was  rent  in  agony,  when  the  divine  Suf- 
ferer of  Calvary  cried,  in  darkness  and  desola- 
tion of  soul,  as  if  God  had  forsaken  him. 

To  Bethlehem,  the  first  of  these  three  "  holy 
phices"  in  Palestine,  our  attention  is  drawn  by 
the  opening  scene  in  the  Saviour's  earthly  life. 
We  may  well  desire  to  learn  all  we  can  of  the 
sacred  spot  which  Grod  had  chosen  to  signalize 
through  all  coming  ages,  by  the  incarnation  of 
his  divine  and  eternal  Son.  We  make  pilgrim- 
ages to  the  birth-place  of  patriots  and  heroes. 
We  build  monuments  to  the  mighty  dead.  We 
trace  out  the  source  and  the  march  of  great 
revolutions.  We  gaze  with  inspired  enthusi- 
asm upon  the  field  where  nations  met  in  the 
shock  of  arms.     With  a  more  profound  and 


BETHLEHEM.  11 

reverent  interest  may  we  study  tlie  place,  the 
time  and  the  circumstances  of  the  greatest 
event  in  the  worhi's  history,  the  coming  of  the 
Son  of  God  to  accomplish  the  world's  redemp- 
tion. 

It  is  by  the  awful  and  infinite  mystery  of 
the  divine  incarnation,  that  the  deep  chasm 
between  heaven  and  earth  is  bridged  over,  and 
a  way  cast  up,  for  angels  to  pass  to  and  fro,  on 
messages,  of  love.  It  is  by  the  incarnation, 
that  the  Holy  One  dwells  in  the  habitations  of 
men,  and  children  of  wrath  are  made  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  Lord  Almighty.  When  we 
consider  the  frailty  of  this  mortal  state,  the 
infirmity  that  burdens  our  loftiest  effort,  the 
dimness  that  clouds  our  clearest  vision,  the 
sinfulness  that  paralyzes  our  noblest  purposes, 
the  depravity  that  poisons  the  life  blood  of  our 
hearts,  it  seems  almost  too  much  for  belief,  that 
the  everlasting  God  should  take  upon  himself 
our  flesh,  and  should  bear  the  weight  of  our 
infirmities,  in  sorrow  and  suffering,  to  the  cross. 
But  upon  this  one  truth  hangs  the  redemption 
of  a  lost  world.  There  is  no  revelation  of  the 
divine  mercy  too  great  for  us  to  receive,  when 


12  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

once  we  recognize  in  the  babe  of  Bethlehem, 
the  mighty  One,  whose  goings  forth  have  been 
from  of  old,  even  from  everlasting. 

Guided  by  such  information  as  we  can  gather 
from  all  sources,  "let  us  now  go  even  unto 
Bethlehem,"  and  see  the  place  where  the  King 
of  glory  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and 
clothed  in  the  garb  of  our  frail  mortality, 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago. 

The  town  of  Bethlehem  is  six  miles  to  the 
south  of  Jerusalem,  a  little  to  the  east  of  the 
main  road  to  Hebron.  The  Syrian  Mountains, 
extending  northward  to  Hermon  and  Lebanon, 
and  southward  to  the  Arabian  desert,  lie  upon 
the  whole  face  of  Palestine,  like  some  vast 
centipede,  with  rocky  arms  of  limestone  hills 
extending  cast  and  west,  between  narrow  val- 
leys and  winding  glens  running  down  to  the 
Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea  on  the  one  side,  and 
to  the  plains  of  Sharon  and  Carmel  on  the  other. 
6n  one  of  these  ridges,  extending  only  a  mile 
from  the  central  chain,  stands  Bethlehem.  It 
is  closed  around  on  every  side,  save  one,  by 
higher  hills.  To  the  south-east  is  Beth-hac- 
cerem,  on  which  the  sign  of  fire  was  lifted  up 


Modern  Bethlehem. 
Walks  and  Homes  of  Jesus, 


Page  \'6. 


BETHLEHEM.  13 

for  the  gathering  of  the  tribes,  when  the  trum- 
pet of  war  was  blown  in  Tekoa.  South-east  is 
Gibeah  of  Judah,  from  whose  rocky  heights 
the  wikl  mountaineers  looked  down  upon  the 
field  of  Ephesdammim,  when  Israel  and  the 
Philistines  put  the  battle  in  array,  army  against 
army,  and  the  shepherd  boy  of  Bethlehem, 
slew  the  giant  warrior  of  Gath.  N^orth-east, 
cutting  off  the  view  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  is  the  rocky  crest  and  castel- 
lated convent  of  Mar  Elias,  from  whose  time- 
worn  towers  the  traveller  looks  down  into  the 
gorge  of  the  Jordan,  and  along  the  melancholy 
shores  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Entering  the  gate  of  Bethlehem  at  the  west, 
w^e  climb  the  same  ascent  up  which  Joseph  and 
Mary  toiled,  weary  and  belated,  on  that  memo- 
rable night,  which  has  been  made  an  era  for  all 
subsequent  ages,  and  the  source  of  new  hopes 
and  a  new  history,  for  all  mankind.  Eighteen 
centuries  have  wrought  but  little  change  upon 
the  stone-built  town  and  the  strife-loving  peo^ 
pie.  The  arched  gateway  of  the  wall ;  the 
narrow,  uneven,  broken  foot-path  of  the  main 
street,  difficult  to  travel  bv  day  and  dangerous 


14  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

by  night ;  the  white  tomb-like  stone  houses, 
presenting  a  windowless  wall  to  the  street, 
scattered  irregularly  for  a  mile's  length  along 
the  ridge  of  the  hill,  and  sometimes  so  near 
each  other  as  to  touch  and  cover  the  traveller 
with  their  projecting  balconies ;  the  still  nar- 
rower lanes  and  alleys,  running  off  right  and 
left,  and  opening  a  pathway  to  still  gloomier 
stone  huts,  and  stables,  and  caves  in  the  rock, 
all  equally  the  homes  of  man  and  beast ; — these 
are  to-day,  substantially  the  same  that  they 
were,  on  that  night,  when  the  weary  strangers 
from  JNTazareth  groped  their  way  through  the 
whole  length  of  the  dark,  crooked  and  stony 
street,  to  the  khan  at  the  eastern  extremity 
there  at  last  to  find  lodgings  with  the  beasts  of 
the  stall. 

Standing  upon  the  walls  of  Bethlehem,  or 
upon  the  domed  roof  of  one  its  limestone 
houses,  we  see  the  same  landscape  that  was 
seen  by  Mary  and  Joseph,  David  and  Samuel, 
Ruth  and  T^aomi,  Rachel  and  Jacob.  On  the 
north,  east  and  south,  the  cultivated  slopes  of 
the  hill  descend  to  the  plain  in  terraces,  with 
as    much   regularity   as    the   galleries   of    an 


BETHLEHEM.  15 

amphitheatre.  In  the  early  spring,  vines 
hang  in  gay  festoons  from  bank  to  bank.  The 
wide,  branching  fig  fences  the  garden  plots 
with  its  living  wall  of  dark  green  foliage. 
The  silvery  leaves  of  the  olive  glisten  in  cas- 
cades of  evergreen,  from  terrace  to  terrace. 
The  grapes  of  Bethlehem  are  noted  for  their 
strong,  aromatic  flavor,  and  the  whole  air  is 
perfumed  with  the  smell  of  the  vintage.  The 
iigs  that  ripen  on  the  Southern  slopes  of  the 
hill  are  remembered  by  travellers  as  they  re- 
member the  wells  of  the  desert  and  the  waters 
of  the  JSTile.  In  the  valley  below  the  town,  and 
on  the  narrow  plain  be^^ond,  there  are  fields  of 
wheat  and  barley,  where,  in  the  month  of 
April,  the  reapers  may  be  seen,  followed  by 
the  gleaners,  just  as  Ruth  gleaned  after  the 
young  men  of  Boaz  in  the  same  field,  thirty- 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  years  ago. 

The  green  terraces  and  the  little  narrow  val- 
leys of  cultivated  ground  around  Bethlehem, 
are  made  more  refi^eshing  to  the  eye  by  con- 
trast with  the  wilderness  of  Judah  in  full  sight 
beyond.  The  view  in  that  direction  is  bounded 
by    hills    of    white    limestone,    thrown    con- 


16  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

fusecUy  together,  like  waves  when  the  winds 
suddenly  change  and  seas  cross  each  other  in 
wild  discord.  The  hills  are  cloven  by  narrow 
waterless  ravines,  and  the  mouths  of  many  cav- 
erns o]yen  upon  their  steep  sides,  and  farther 
away  the  glens  contract  into  wild,  deep  gorges, 
or  slope  off  with  a  rapid  descent  to  the  dismal 
shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  JN'ot  a  solitary  tree, 
nor  a  spot  of  green  earth  can  he  seen  along  the 
whole  outline  of  scorched  and  blasted  hills  and 
robber-haunted  glens  which  bound  the  view 
toward  the  wilderness  of  Judah  and  the  moun- 
tains of  Moab.  Standing  upon  the  ridge  of 
Bethlehem  and  looking  in  that  direction,  one 
seems  to  have  landed  upon  an  island  of  green 
in  an  ocean  of  desolation. 

The  birth  of  Jesus  is  the  great  event  Avhich 
gives  sacredness  and  importance  to  this  little 
town,  perched  upon  a  hill-top  and  pushed  aside 
from  the  march  of  armies  and  the  merchandise 
of  nations.  And  yet  Bethlehem  itself  had  a 
history  before  the  world's  Redeemer  took  ref- 
uge in  its  humble  stall.  Before  tlie  Hebrews 
were  a  people,  before  Jerusalem  had  its  name, 
Jacob  came  back  from  his  lonu'  exile  in  Padan- 


The  Wilderness  of  Judea,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Cave  of  Adullam,  looking  eastward, 

to  the  Mountains  of  Muab  beyond  the  Dead  Pea. 

Walks  and  Homes  of  Jans.  Page  16. 


BETHLEHEM.  17 

aram,  journeying  toward  Hebron.  The  train 
of  his  servants  and  camels  and  sheep  and 
goats  was  a  great  host;  and  they  came  lei- 
surely along  the  rough  and  winding  road  from 
the  north,  filling  the  whole  valley  with  their 
multitude. 

When  within  a  mile  of  Bethleliem,  just  as 
the  camels  came  down  from  the  steep,  stony 
track  of  the  road  into  the  green  valley,  Rachel, 
the  younger  and  the  most  beloved  of  the 
Patriarch's  wives,  fainted  with  the  pangs  of 
travail,  and  as  she  lay  in  agony  by  the  road- 
side, and  her  soul  was  departing,  she  named 
her  new-born  child,  Benoni,  "  son  of  my  sor- 
row." More  than  forty  years  afterward,  when 
Jacob  himself  was  old  and  blind  and  dying,  he 
commemorated  in  his  last  words  the  place  and 
the  bitter  agony  which  took  from  him  his 
beloved  Rachel  and  gave  him  Benjamin  by  the 
road-side  in  si^ht  of  the  hill  of  Bethlehem. 

And  the  birth  of  that  "  son  of  sorrow"  was 
undoubtedly  appointed  at  that  place  in  the 
midst  of  a  household  journey,  and  it  was  re- 
corded by  the  pen  of  inspiration  to  point  for- 
ward seventeen  hundred  years,  down  the  line 


18  AVALKS   AND    HOMES. 

of  history,  to  a  greater  and  more  mysterious 
agony,  when  the  Son  of  God  should  become  a 
*'man  of  sorrows,"  and  take  on  himself  the 
sins  and  afflictions  of  a  lost  world. 

Some  four  hundred  years  after  the  death  of 
Rachel,  in  the  month  of  April,  in  the  time  of 
the  barley  harvest,  two  lonely  women,  mother 
and  daughter,  appeared,  hungry  and  homeless 
and  afflicted,  in  the  narrow  street  of  Bethle- 
hem. They  had  come  all  the  way  from  beyond 
the  Dead  Sea,  across  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan, 
up  through  the  lonely  paths  of  the  wilderness, 
and  the  wild  glens  among  the  mountains  of 
Judah.  Their  friendless  condition  excited  the 
commiseration  of  the  whole  town.  But  the 
mother  was  proud  and  unhappy,  and  she 
resented  all  offers  of  sympathy  or  help.  When 
the  curious  villagers  asked  in  kindness  who 
she  was,  she  said  they  might  call  her  anything 
that  meant  wretchedness  and  misery  ;  for  "  the 
Almighty  had  dealt  very  bitterly  with  her." 

But  the  daughter  was  gentle  and  affection- 
ate, and  readv  to  do  anvthino-  to  save  herself 
and  her  proud-spirited  old  mother  from  starv- 
ing.    She  even  begged  to  be  permitted  to  go 


BP^.THLEHEM.  .  19 

down  into  the  barley-field  below  the  tow^n,  and 
glean  after  the  reapers.  It  is  hard  for  the 
stoutest  heart  to  hold  out  against  hunger  ;  and 
so  the  unhappy  mother  let  the  daughter  go, 
staying  behind  herself,  to  brood  over  her  pride 
and  misery  in  some  wretched  stone  cabin  of 
the  town.  The  dauohter  went  with  more 
willingness  to  her  humble  toil,  stooping 
through  the  hot  stubble  all  day,  gathering  the 
bearded  heads  of  barley  with  her  bare  hand, 
at  night  sitting  down  by  the  road-side  to  beat 
out  the  kernels  Avith  a  stick,  and  carrvino; 
home  a  few  handfuls  of  dry  grain  to  pound 
with  a  stone  and  bake  in  the  ashes,  and  so 
keep  herself  and  her  poor  old  mother  alive. 

And  it  was  because  that  aifectionate  daugh- 
ter performed  such  menial  work  with  the  grace 
of  cheerfulness  and  simplicity,  that  she  drew 
the  attention  of  the  lord  of  the  field.  And 
hence  the  name  of  Ruth  stands  in  sacred  his- 
tory, as  the  mother  of  a  line  of  kings,  and  the 
Son  of  Grod,  himself  was  descended  in  his 
humanity  from  a  homeless  exile,  who  saved 
herself    and    her    mother   from    starving,    by 


20  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

gleaning  barley  all  clay  in  the  hot  tielcL  beneath 
the  hill  of  Bethlehem. 

Four  generations  after  Ruth,  there  was  a  day 
when  an  old  man  Avith  a  white  beard  and  a 
mournful  look,  came  up  the  hill  leaning  on  his 
prophet's  staff,  and  entered  the  western  gate 
of  Bethlehem.  When  the  elders  of  the  town 
saw  him,  they  trembled  at  his  presence,  for 
they  knew  that  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  by 
his  mouth,  and  wherever  he  a|)peared  men 
w^ere  afraid  that  he  had  come  to  call  their  sins 
to  remembrance.  But  he  soon  quieted  the 
fears  of  the  elders  of  Bethlehem  by  assuring 
them  that  at  this  time  his  errand  was  peace. 

There  was  an  old  man  in  the  village  who 
had  eight  sons,  seven  of  them  full  grown, 
giants  in  strength  and  in  stature,  mighty  men 
of  valor.  Between  them  and  their  younger 
brother,  there  was  an  interval  of  many  years. 
He  was  a  boy,  more  youthful  in  appearance 
than  in  age ;  of  fair  complexion  and  beautiful 
features  and  goodly  to  look  upon.  The  rude 
and  stalwart  brothers  despised  the  boy  for  his 
3''outh  and  his  beauty,  and  they  treated  him  as 
if  he  were  a  slave  or  a  oirl.     Thev  set   him 


BETHLEHEM.  21 

to  watch  slieej:>  and  to  follow  the  goats,  as  they 
climbed  the  ridges  and  wandered  through  the 
narrow  valleys  to  the  east  of  the  town. 

But  the  beautiful  and  fair-haired  boy  made 
good  use  of  his  shepherd  life,  in  learning  les- 
sons suited  to  the  people  and  the  time.  He 
became  familiar  with  all  the  glens  and  ridges 
and  high  places  of  the  wild  country,  from 
Bethlehem  eastward  down  to  the  cave  of  Adul- 
lam  and  the  passes  of  Engedi.  He  learned 
to  bear  hunger  and  heat  and  cold  and  fatigue, 
day  and  night,  until  he  became  inditferent  to 
all  extremes  of  temperature  and  all  forms  of 
danger.  He  could  scale  heights  where  the 
eagle  must  be  bold  to  build  her  nest,  and  he 
could  walk  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  where  the 
wild  goats  feared  to  climb.  He  could  make  his 
meal  of  parched  corn,  and  drink  of  the  moun- 
tain spring,  and  sleep  at  night  with  the  heavens 
for  a  covering  and  the  rock  for  a  bed.  He 
would  attack  the  lion  and  the  bear  single- 
handed,  and  deliver  the  lambs  of  his  flock  from 
the  fiercest  of  the  beasts  of  prey.  The  roving 
Arab  could  not  surprise  him  in  the  field  or  the 
fold,  and  the  daring  robber  from  the  desert. 


22  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

learned  to  avoid  an  enconnter  with  such  a 
keeper. 

He  became  familiar  with  mountains  and 
winds  and  clouds ;  with  pathless  solitudes,  and 
sounding  storms,  and  starry  nights.  He  taught 
his  fingers  to  play  upon  the  harp,  and  he  made 
the  waste  places  of  the  wilderness  vocal  with 
psalms  of  praise.  He  wove  the  glories  of  the 
sunset,  and  the  iires  of  the  firmament,  and  the 
shadows  of  the  forest,  and  the  lightnings  of 
the  tempest,  and  the  voices  of  the  deep,  into 
songs  that  shall  be  sung  through  all  coming 
time. 

And  now  when  Samuel  the  prophet  called 
Jesse's  sons  to  pass  before  him,  that  he  might 
anoint  the  noblest,  king  over  Israel,  the  seven 
stalwart  men  were  rejected,  and  this  forgotten 
boy  was  sent  for  to  come  in  from  the  sheep- 
w^alks  in  the  Avilderness,  and  on  him  the  conse- 
crating oil  was  poured,  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  in  the  midst  of  his  brethren.  And  so 
when  the  divine  Son  of  David  was  born  in 
Bethlehem,  a  thousand  years  afterward,  he 
came,  in  the  line  of  descent,  from  one  who  kept 
sheep  on  the  neighboring  hills,  and  wandered 


BETHLEHEM.  23 

a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw,  among  the  caves  and 
glens  of  tlie  wilderness  beyond. 

When  David,  in  his  old  age,  was  driven  from 
his  throne  and  from  Jerusalem,  by  the  unnat- 
ural rebellion  of  his  son  Absalom,  he  took 
refuge  among  the  mountains  of  Gilead,  to  the 
east  of  the  Jordan.  An  old  chief  among  the 
mountain  tribes,  Barzillai  by  name,  greatly 
befriended  the  fugitive  king  and  his  followers, 
by  bringing  them  wheat  and  barley,  and  flour, 
and  parched  corn,  and  sheep,  and  honey,  and 
mats  for  covering  by  night.  When  Absalom 
was  slain,  and  David  returned  to  Jerusalem,  he 
took  with  him  Chimham,  the  son  of  old  Bar- 
zillai, and  treated  him  like  a  child  at  his  own 
table ;  and  subsequently  gave  him  his  own 
house,  which  he  had  inherited  from  his  father 
Jesse,  at  Bethlehem.  And  when  David  was 
dying,  in  his  last  words,  he  charged  Solomon, 
his  son  and  successor,  to  be  kind  to  Chimham, 
and  to  ensure  to  him  the  possession  of  the 
house  in  Bethlehem,  where  Ruth  lived  and 
David  himself  was  born. 

Four  hundred  and  thirty  years  afterwards, 
in  the  days  of  Jeremiah   the  prophet,  when 


24  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

Jerusalem  was  in  ruins,  and  the  tribes  of  Israel 
had  been  carried  captive  to  Babylon,  the  strong 
stone-built  house,  given  by  king  David  to  the 
son  of  his  benefactor,  was  still  standing  in 
Bethlehem,  and  it  was  still  called  the  house  of 
Chimham.  It  had  then  become  the  khan,  or 
public  house  of  the  village.  Jeremiah  himself 
took  refuge  within  its  walls,  when  his  friend 
and  protector  Gedaliah,  the  deputy  governor 
appointed  by  the  king  of  Babylon,  had  been 
treacherously  slain  at  Mizpeh,  a  few  miles 
north  of  Jerusalem. 

At  that  time,  a  great  company  of  fugitives, 
also  fearing  the  wrath  of  Nebuchadnezzar  for 
the  murder  of  his  governor,  came  down  from 
Gibeon  and  filled  the  whole  house  of  Chimham, 
and  encamped  upon  the  slopes  of  the  hill  and 
in  the  open  spaces  of  the  town.  Jeremiah, 
speaking  by  the  word  of  the  Lord,  warned 
them  to  go  back  to  their  homes  and  fear 
nothing.  But  they  disobeyed  and  passed  on 
in  the  other  direction  into  Egypt,  taking  the 
prophet  himself  with  them,  and  there  they  all 
died. 

Five   hundred  and   eighty   years  pass,   and 


BETHLEHEM.  2o 

light  breaks  again  upon  the  house  of  Chim- 
ham,  the  khan  of  Bethlehem  where  Ruth 
lived  and  David  was  born,  and  Jeremiah 
received  the  word  of  the  Lord.  It  is  still  the 
public  caravanserai  of  the  town,  and  tAvo 
weary  travelers  from  the  hills  of  Nazareth 
come  at  a  late  hour,  through  the  whole  length 
of  the  straggling  street,  to  the  eastern  extrem- 
ity of  the  town,  to  seek  rest  and  shelter  for  the 
nio'ht  in  this  ancient  and  historic  abode  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill. 

The  open  area  within  the  walls  is  all  cov- 
ered with  men,  women  and  children  ;  horses, 
asses  and  camels,  sleeping  promiscuously  to- 
gether upon  the  stone  floor.  The  narrow, 
doorless,  unfurnished  stalls  or  sleeping  cham- 
bers in  the  walls,  opening  under  arches  upon  a 
raised  piazza  round  three  sides  of  the  area,  are 
all  full.  The  late  travelers  are  obliged  to  sei^k 
shelter  outside  of  the  inner  wall  of  the  car- 
avanserai, beneath  archwavs  extendino-  back 
under  the  projecting  and  cavernous  rocks  of 
the  hill-side,  and  used  only  for  the  protection 
of  servants,  muleteers  and  animals  in  bad 
weather.     "  There  is  no  room  "  tor  these  be- 


26  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

nighted  late  comers  ''  in  the  inn."  The  sides 
of  this  outer  enclosure  are  fitted  up  with 
mangers  built  into  the  Avails,  with  small 
stones  and  mortar,  and  shaped  like  a  kneading 
trough. 

In  such  a  dismal,  stony,  unfurnished,  win- 
dowless,  doorless  cell  was  the  Redeemer  of  the 
world  born.  In  such  a  rude,  stone-built 
manger  was  the  babe  lying  wdien  the  shep- 
herds, w^atching  their  flocks  in  the  fields  below 
the  town,  heard  the  angel  voice,  saying,  *'  Be- 
hold, I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  unto  all  people.  For  unto  you 
is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Sa- 
viour, which  is  Christ,  the  Lord." 

And  the  joy  was  too  great  for  a  single  mes- 
senger to  bring  from  heaven  to  earth.  For 
suddenly  the  whole  plain  seemed  to  have 
become  camping  ground  for  the  angelic  host, 
and  a  multitude  of  voices  broke  forth  in  llie 
song  which  all  the  nations  shall  yet  learn  to 
sing — "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good-will  to  men."  And  when 
the  angels  ceased  and  departed,  the  shepherds 
ran  with  haste,  climbed  up  the  hill-side  among 


BETHLEHEM.  Zi 

terraced  gardens  and  evergreen  olives  and 
ca^me  to  the  stable  of  the  inn,  and  found,  as 
the  angel  had  said,  "the  babe  lying  in  a 
manger." 

Thenceforth  the  house  of  David  on  the  brow 
of  that  hill,  is  consecrated  in  all  Christian 
memories  forevermore.  Fruitful,  vine-clad 
Bethlehem,  which  signiiies  "  the  house  of 
bread,"  becomes  the  representative  of  that 
living  Bread  which  came  down  from  heaven, 
of  which,  if  a  man  partake,  he  shall  never 
die.  Contentious,  Avar-loving  Bethlehem  sends 
forth  a  song  of  peace  which  shall  be  sung  in 
all  the  languages  of  men,  and  shall  resound 
through  all  the  ages  of  time.  Royal,  king- 
nursing  Bethlehem,  becomes  the  birth-place 
of  a  Prince  whose  glory  shall  fill  the  earth, 
and  whose  dominion  shall  endure  throuo'hout 
all  generations.  Proud,  beautiful  Bethlehem, 
nestled  among  hills  and  smiling  on  the  desert, 
sends  forth  a  message  of  raerc}^,  to  comfort  all 
that  mourn,  to  lift  up  all  that  are  cast  down 
and  to  gladden  all  the  waste  places  of  the 
earth. 

The  story  of  Bethlehem  loses  nothing  of  its 


28  WALKS    AXD.  HOMES. 

meaning  or  its  power  with  tlie  progress  of  time. 
It  never  meant  so  much  in  the  minds  of  men 
as  it  does  now,  and  it  will  hold  a  higher  place 
in  human  history,  when  it  is  thirty-six  centuries 
old,  than  it  does  now,  when  it  is  eighteen. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  describe,  or  to  im- 
agine, the  depths  of  humiliation  to  which  the 
Son  of  God  subjected  himself,  in  accomplishing 
the  work  of  our  redemption.  We  may  call  to 
our  aid  the  utmost  resources  of  reason  and  im- 
agination, supposition  and  argument,  and  yet 
we  shall  fail  to  measure  the  distance  between 
the  throne  of  heaven  and  the  manger  of  Beth- 
lehem. And  yet  it  becomes  us  to  avail  our- 
selves of  every  expedient  and  suggestion,  which 
may  help  us  to  dwell  on  the  mighty  theme,  till 
our  minds  are  lost  in  wonder,  love  and  adora- 
tion.    To  this  end  indulge  a  single  sujiposition. 

Suppose  it  to  have  been  told  in  heaven  that 
the  fulness  of  the  j^rophetic  times  had  come, 
the  great  expiation  for  man's  sin  was  about  to 
be  made,  the  Son  of  God  had  already  appeared 
incarnate  on  earth ;  and  some  ministering  angel, 
just  returned  from  a  mission  of  love  to  some 
far  distant  world,  hastens  down  to  be  present 


BETHLEHEM.  29 

at  the  sacritice.  He  lias  seen  the  glory  which 
the  eternal  Son  had  with  the  Father  before  the 
world  was.  He  has  bowed  with  veiled  face  in 
the  presence  of  the  unapproachable  Light.  He 
naturally  supposes  that  the  Lord  of  angels  and 
the  Son  of  the  Highest,  will  be  attended  with 
a  retinue  commensurate  with  the  dignity  of 
his  divine  nature,  even  when  oifering  himself 
to  bear  an  infinite  weight  of  suffering  for  man's 
sin.  He  is  prepared  to  witness  the  assemblage 
of  nil  nations,  at  some  great  imperial  capital. 
He  expects  nothing  less  than  that  the  divine 
Messiah  will  be  surrounded  by  leo-ions  of  an- 
gels,  and  that  he  will  receive  the  visible  homage 
of  chei'ub  and  of  burning  seraphim,  in  the 
very  moment  of  his  mysterious  agony,  that  the 
Avorld  may  believe  in  his  greatness  when  be- 
holdino-  his  o-lorv. 

With  such  expectations,  the  inquiring  angel 
approaches  our  earth.  But  he  sees  it  illumined 
with  no  unusual  light.  He  hears  no  sounds  of 
exultant  joy  from  the  race  whom  the  Son  of 
God  had  come  to  save.  He  has  learned  some- 
thing of  a  chosen  people ;  of  a  city  where 
Jehovah   had   placed   his   name;    of  a  temple 


30  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

which  had  been  haUowed  for  ages  by  awful 
symbols  of  the  divine  presence.  He  directs 
his  flight  to  Jerusalem ;  hovers  in  mid-air  over 
the  mount  of  Zion.  But  he  sees  no  signs  of 
the  auo'ust  ceremony  there. 

The  proud  priests  are  offering  polluted  sac- 
rifice in  the  temple.  The  prouder  Pharisees 
are  addressing  the  multitude,  in  the  courts  of 
the  Lord's  house  and  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets,  vociferating  long  prayers,  displa^dng 
the  precepts  of  the  law  and  the  traditions  of 
the  elders  inwoven  upon  their  garments,  and 
worn  in  phylacteries  upon  their  foreheads.  The 
armor  of  the  Roman  soldier  clanks  at  every 
gate,  upon  every  tower  and  Avail.  The  inquir- 
ino-  ano-el  sees  no  evidence  of  the  Redeemer's 
presence,  in  the  city,  where  the  daily  sacrifice 
for  a  thousand  years  had  r)romised  his  comimr 
and  typified  his  death. 

Could  it  be  that  the  Son  of  God,  to  draw  the 
attention  of  all  nations,  had  chosen  to  make 
his  advent  at  the  capital  of  the  world's  great 
empire?  Alas!  the  imperial  city  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tiber,  is  in  no  mood  to  welcome  the 
Redeemer  of  mankind.    From  the  marble  seats 


BETHLEHEM.  31 

of  the  ampliitheatre,  a  liiindred  thousand  spec- 
tators look  down  with  eager  and  savage  joy 
upon  human  combatants  cutting  each  other  to 
pieces,  "to  make  a  Roman  holiday."  When 
one  falls  beneath  the  more  dexterous  sword  of 
his  antagonist,  and  his  life  blood  stains  the 
trampled  sand  of  the  arena,  the  acclamation 
from  the  crowded  galleries,  rises  loud  as  the 
shout  of  nations,  hoarse  and  horrible  as  the 
roar  of  the  deep  in  storms. 

In  another  quarter,  the  congregated  wisdom 
of  the  Roman  Senate  is  votinu'  divine  honors 
to  the  cruel  and  beastly  despot,  who  has  grati- 
iied  the  passions  of  the  populace,  Avitli  such 
murderous  amusement.  Surely,  in  such  a  city, 
the  heavenly  visitant  tinds  little  evidence  of  a 
disposition  to  rejoice  at  the  coming  of  the 
Prince  of  peace. 

Nor  Avould  he  find  a  better  preparation  for 
the  promised  Messiah,  should  he  turn  to 
Athens,  "  the  eye  of  Greece,"  the  fountain  of 
learning  and  philosophy,  the  home  of  the  arts, 
the  haunt  of  the  muses.  The  Grreeks  are  too 
busy  with  the  fables  of  talse  gods,  to  welcome 
a  new  revelation  from  the  onlv  wise  and  true. 


32  WALKS    AXI)    HOMES. 

And  the  great  capitals  of  ancient  empire, 
Thebes,  Babylon,  N^ineveh,  had  been  levelled 
with  the  dust  long  before,  by  the  judgments 
of  heaven  executed  upon  their  crimes.  The 
bird  of  night,  and  the  beast  of  prey,  had  found 
a  home,  amid  the  desolate  palaces  of  Egypt's 
kings,  and  the  fallen  temples  of  Assyrian  gods. 

Wearied  with  the  fruitless  search  for  the 
scene  of  the  divine  incarnation,  the  inquiring- 
angel  begins  to  suspect  that  he  has  mistaken 
the  world,  in  which  the  great  expiation  was 
about  to  be  made.  Shocked  and  territied  by  the 
universal  prevalence  and  boundless  excesses  of 
misery  and  crime,  he  begins  to  fear  that  he  has 
alighted  upon  the  region  of  the  outcast  and 
accursed.  He  is  just  about  to  wing  his  way 
back,  when  suddenly  he  sees,  almost  beneath 
him,  to  the  south  of  Jerusalem,  the  whole  air 
ablaze  with  gathering  myriads  of  the  heavenly 
host.  He  hears  the  chorus  of  blest  voices, 
proclaiming  the  tidings  that  Christ  is  born  in 
the  city  of  David,  and  that  his  earthly  abode 
is  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall. 

And  there  indeed  was  the  8on  of  God,  the 
Redeemer  of  the  w^orld,  in  all  outward  appear- 


BETHLEHEM.  33 

ance  as  frail  and  helpless  as  the  creatures  whom 
he  was  born  to  save.  If  angels  ministered 
unto  him,  they  were  not  permitted  to  display 
their  glory  before  the  eyes  of  men  ;  they  must 
not  sing  his  praise  in  songs  that  could  be  heard 
by  ears  of  flesh  and  blood.  If  the  swift  mes- 
seno-ers  of  the  skies  bore  the  tidinos  of  his 
birth  with  joy  to  the  courts  of  heaven,  no  such 
intelligence  was  announced  in  the  palaces  of 
earthly  monarchs ;  shepherds  were  told  of  the 
coming  of  the  King  of  glory,  while  princes  and 
philosophers  knew  it  not. 

The  proud  Pharisee,  with  hypocritical  devo- 
tion, courting  the  homage  of  the  superstitious 
rabble  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  ;  the  learned 
Rabbi,  expounding  the  law  in  the  schools  of 
the  prophets,  knew  nothing  of  the  Babe  in  the 
manger  of  Bethlehem.  Their  Messiah  was  to 
be  an  earthly  prince,  who  should  reign  on  the 
throne  of  David  and  crush  the  heathen  with 
his  conquering  arm,  not  the  despised  Xazarene 
who  should  suffer  and  die.  The  great  and 
mighty  of  the  earth,  who  were  devising 
schemes  to  perpetuate  their  own  dominion  to 
tlie  latest  posterity,  made  no  account  of  that 


34  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

Prince  whose  throne  should  be  set  up  in  mil- 
lions of  hearts,  and  whose  kingdom  should  en- 
dure forever  and  ever. 

And  who  could  have  supposed  that  the 
King  of  glory  would  stoop  so  low?  AVho 
could  have  thought  that  the  divine  nature 
would  shroud  itself  in  the  frail  form  of  a 
child,  whose  lowly  bed  was  made  in  a  manger  ? 
Who  would  dare*  sav  that  ano-els  mioht  bow 
down  and  worship  before  that  babe,  without 
forfeiting  their  allegiance  to  the  King  of  hea- 
ven ?  What  prophet  would  have  been  believed 
in  Bethlehem,  if  he  had  said  of  the  son  of  Mary, 
"  He  shall  feed  the  destitute  by  thousands,  yet 
himself  suffer  the  pangs  of  hunger;  he  shall  sup- 
ply consolation  for  the  most  afflicted,  yet  him- 
self become  preeminently  the  Man  of  sorrows  ; 
he  shall  be  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separate 
from  sin,  yet  on  him  shall  be  laid  the  iniquities 
of  us  all  ;  he  shall  still  the  tempest  with  a 
word,  yet  himself  want  protection  from  heat 
and  cold ;  he  shall  give  rest  to  the  weary  and 
heavy-laden,  yet  himself  not  have  where  to 
lay  his  head  ;  he  shall  heal  the  sick  with  the 
touch  of  his  hand,  vet  himself  be  as  sensitive 


BETHLEHEM.  35 

to  bodily  pain  as  tliey ;  he  shall  east  out  dev- 
ils, vet  himself  be  assailed  by  the  temptations 
of  Satan  ;  he  shall  raise  the  dead  by  his  own 
power,  yet  himself  suffer  the  pangs  of  death." 

He  might,  indeed,  have  astonished  the 
world  by  a  display  of  his  real  person,  clothed 
in  the  splendors  with  which  he  shone  in  the 
hio-hest  heaven.  He  mioht  have  revealed 
himself  at  the  very  first  in  tlamino-  fire,  at- 
tended  by  ten  thousand  thousand  of  his  minis- 
tering spirits.  He  might  have  descended 
from  above  upon  Mount  Zion,  with  the  trump 
of  the  archangel  to  herald  his  coming,  and  the 
wdng  of  cherubim  to  waft  his  flying  throne. 
But  he  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  it  is 
only  because  he  submitted  to  such  humiliation, 
that  we  have  the  hope  of  glory  and  immortal- 
ity. 

And  shall  not  this  w^onderful  story  of  Beth- 
lehem teach  us  to  pour  contempt  on  all  our 
human  pride  ?  The  Son  of  God  consents  to 
be  a  stranger.  And  shall  men  complain  that 
they  are  unappreciated  or  unknown  ?  The 
King   of  glory  takes   the   form  of  a  servant, 


36  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

and  shall  men  complain  that  their  condition  is 
lowly  and  their  honors  few  ?  The  strength  of 
omnipotence  clothed  itself  with  the  feebleness 
of  a  child ;  the  hand  that  S23read  out  the  hea- 
vens and  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth,  ap- 
peared as  the  hand  of  a  babe  needing  to  be 
led,  waiting  to  be  lifted  up.  And  shall  any 
humiliation  seem  to  us  too  deep,  if  in  our 
lowly  estate  we  can  have  the  sympathy  and 
companionship  of  One  who  made  the  worlds 
and  holds  the  stars  in  his  right  hand. 

The  story  of  Bethlehem  shows  us  how  deep 
is  the  divine  sympathy  with  us  in  all  the 
walks  of  life.  In  illustrating  this  first  page 
of  gospel  history,  we  must  speak  of  humble 
homes,  and  comfortless  houses,  and  weary  jour- 
neys, and  laborious  occupations,  and  meagre 
living,  and  rude  garments,  and  cheerless  apart- 
ments, and  jostlings  with  stranger  and  lodging 
with  cattle.  And  in  all  these  places  and  expe- 
riences, the  divine  Life  dwells  with  men. 
They  are  all  embraced  and  sanctihed  in  the 
earthly  history  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God 
that  we  may  learn  to  cherish  the  holiest 
purposes  in  the  hum  1)1  est  ocr^uj^Mtions.  thnt  we 


BETHLEHEM. 


37 


may  make  all  the  trials  and  toils  and  experi- 
ences of  life,  the  means  of  bringing  us  into 
hio-her  communion  with  our  Maker. 


Barns  and  brute  cattle  should  be  dedicated 
to  God,  since  Jesus  was  laid  in  a  manger. 
Poor,  hard-working  laborers  may  be  the  es- 
pecial favorites  of  heaven,   since  angels  bore 


38        .  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

the  best  tidings  that  ever  came  to  this  world, 
first  to  shepherds.  Hotels  and  taverns  may 
be  made  holy  places,  since  wise  men  of  the 
East  found  the  Saviour  of  the  world  in  a  cara- 
vanserai. The  most  unwelcome  exactions  may 
bring  us  blessings,  since  it  was  in  consequence 
of  the  edict  of  the  taxgatherer,  that  Bethlehem 
became  the  birthplace  of  Christ.  All  the 
beautiful  things  of  art,  and  all  the  precious 
things  of  wealth,  and  all  the  sacred  things  of 
affection  may  be  dedicated  to  Christ,  since  gold 
and  frankincense  and  myrrh  were  offered  to 
the  infant  Saviour,  even  before  his  glory  was 
manifested  before  the  world.  The  Son  of  Grod 
in  his  humiliation  passed  through  all  the 
depths  and  necessities  of  our  lowly  estate  that 
he  might  sanctify  all  departments  of  human 
life  and  teach  us  to  live  for  God  in  them  all. 

The  story  of  Bethlehem  is  one  of  great  joy 
to  all  people.  It  is  joy  to  the  poor;  for  Christ 
comes  to  make  them  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of 
God.  It  is  joy  to  the  rich  ;  for  Christ  comes  to 
teach  them  how  to  use  all  their  earthly  posses- 
sions, so  as  to  lay  up  for  themselves  imperish- 
able riches  in  heaA^en.     It  is  joy  to  the  igno- 


BETHLEHEM.  39 

rant;  for  Christ  comes  to  make  them  wise 
unto  eternal  salyation.  It  is  joy  to  the  learned  ; 
for  Christ  comes  to  unfold  mysteries  that  have 
been  kept  secret  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.  It  is  joy  to  the  mourning  and  the  com- 
fortless ;  for  Christ  comes  to  heal  all  sorrow, 
and  to  bind  up  every  broken  heart.  It  is  joy 
to  the  guilty,  the  condemned  and  the  despair- 
ing ;  for  Christ  comes  to  take  away  transgres- 
sion, to  bear  the  sins  of  many  and  to  give  him- 
self a  ransom  for  the  world.  The  wave  of 
joy,  flowing  forth  from  the  angel-song  of 
Bethlehem,  is  wide  enough  to  encompass  the 
earth,  and  rich  enough  to  bless  every  human 
soul,  and  deep  enough  to  flow  on  through  all 
coming  time. 

The  story  of  Bethlehem  is  worthy  to  be  re- 
ceived with  faith,  and  gratitude,  and  joy  by 
every  heart.  All  the  events  of  past  history 
taken  together,  are  of  less  consequence  to  us, 
than  the  single  fact  that  the  Son  of  God  became 
incarnate,  suflbred  and  died  for  our  salvation. 
All  the  researches  of  science,  all  the  reasonings 
of  philosophy,  all  the  inventions  of  genius, 
have  not  poured  so  much  light  upon  the  world 


40  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

as  the  star  that  led  to  the  place  where  Christ 
was  born.  The  highest  and  longest  enjoyment 
of  health,  the  acquisition  of  millions  of  money, 
success  in  all  worldly  enterprises,  Avere  nothing 
like  so  great  an  occasion  for  gratitude  and  joy 
as  is  given  us  all  by  the  knoAvledge  of  the 
glory  of  God  as  it  shines  in  tlie  face  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Oh !  when  shall  earth's  uncounted  millions 
join  the  angel  host  in  singing  for  joy  that 
Christ  was  born  in  Bethlehem  ?  When  shall 
all  for  whom  the  Saviour  died,  accept  with 
grateful  faith,  this  awful  and  merciful  mys- 
tery of  the  divine  incarnation,  as  the  greatest 
event  in  the  history  of  time  ?  When  shall  the 
one  song  of  "Peace  on  earth,  and  glory  in  the 
Highest,"  employ  all  nations? 

"The  dwellers  in  the  vales  and  on  the  rocks 
Shout  to  each  other,  and  the  mountain  tops 
From  distant  mountains  catch  the  flying  joy ; 
Till  nation  after  nation  taught  the  strain, 
Earth  rolls  the  rapturous  hosanna  round!" 


The  song  of   angels,  which  proclaimed  the 
coming   of    the    Son    of    God   on   earth,    had 


BETHLEHEM.  41 

scarcely  ceased  upon  the  plain  of  Bethlehem, 
when  the  wrath  of  man  broke  forth  for  the  de- 
feat of  the  purposed  mercy,  and  the  destruction 
of  the  infant  Saviour.  The  Babe,  whose  birth 
was  an  occasion  of  joy  to  the  heavenly  host, 
soon  became  the  subject  of  suspicion  and  rage 
to  the  rulers  of  the  earth.  Out  of  the  city  of 
David,  out  of  the  Land  of  Promise,  beyond 
the  realm  of  kings  who  reigned  in  his  own  Je- 
rusalem, beyond  the  reach  of  priests  who  min- 
istered in  his  own  temple  of  Zion,  must  the 
infant  Messiah  be  borne,  or  the  earth  would 
lose  its  Saviour,  and  the  stream  of  salvation 
be  dried  at  the  fountain. 

He  who  came  to  be  the  Light  of  the  world, 
must  be  carried  away  by  night  and  hidden 
'from  the  world  in  the  land  of  darkness.  The 
divine  Deliverer  of  Israel,  and  of  the  nations, 
must  go  down  to  Egypt  and  dwell  in  the  house 
of  bondage,  before  he  can  be  permitted  to  pro- 
claim liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening 
of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound. 

Of  that  long  and  lonely  pilgrimage,  which 
began  by  night  at  Bethlehem,  and  continued 
for  many  days  over  the  waste  of  Arabian  des- 

4  * 


42 


WALKS    AND    HOMES. 


erts,  and  ended  in  the  deeper  night  and  worse 
desolation  of  exile  in  Egypt,  we  know  nothing. 
But  it  is  much  to  know  that  the  holy  child  Je- 
sus was  a  fugitive  for  his  life  in  his  infancy, 
and  that  the  divine  Saviour,  when  his  glory 
was  fully  manifested  before  the  world,  Avas  cru- 
cified in  his  death. 


NAZARETH 


He  came  to  Nazareth  where  he  had  bceti  brought  up. — Luke 
iv.  i6. 


II. 

NAZARETH. 

FTER  the  wondrous  birth  in  Bethle- 
hem, and  the  hurried  flight  into 
Egypt,  the  strange  story  of  the  divine 
incarnation  returns  to  the  secluded  spot  Avhere 
it  began,  among  the  hills  of  Galilee.  The  Son 
of  God  has  appeared  upon  the  great  mission 
of  redemption,  announced  as  king  and  Messiah 
by  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  and  yet  he 
must  be  hidden  from  the  world  thirty  years 
before  he  makes  himself  known.  For  so  long 
a  time  he  must  live  by  toil,  in  dependence  and 
obscurity,  as  if  he  were  the  least  of  the  sons 
of  men.  For  a  whole  generation  he  must  shut 
the  great  secret  of  his  work  and  character 
in  his  own  heart,  teaching  tirst  the  long,  hard 
lesson  of  silence,  and  jDatience,  and  waiting, 
that  he  may  be  heard  the  more  gladly  by  the 
poor  and  the  "common  people,"  when  he 
speaks. 

45 


46  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

Ill  regard  to  the  precise  manner  in  which 
Jesus  spent  the  years  of  man's  life,  from  chihl- 
hoocl  to  mature  age,  the  sacred  writers  main- 
tain the  most  profound  and  solemn  reserve. 
The  irreverent  and  inquisitive  spirit  of  later 
times,  has  endeavored  to  lift  the  awful  veil 
with  which  inspiration  covers  the  home  and 
the  occupations  of  the  child  and  the  man  Jesus 
before  his  manifestation  to  the  world.  But  all 
such  attempts  have  only  served  to  impress  us 
more  fully  with  the  wisdom  of  the  divine  pur- 
pose, which  has  shrouded  this  early  period  in 
the  life  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  in  impen- 
etrable mystery.  Mercy  has  communicated 
all  that  can  help  our  faith,  and  wisdom  has 
withholden  what  would  only  supply  materials 
for  the  employment  of  a  profane  and  profitless 
curiosity. 

^Nevertheless  we  are  told  the  place  where 
Jesus  was  "brought  up,"  the  obscure  mountain 
village  wdiere  the  Saviour  of  the  world  was 
hidden  from  the  eyes  of  men  for  so  many 
years.  And  it  is  becoming  in  us  to  manifest  a 
profound  interest  in  the  secluded  s23ot  where 
the  divine  "  Child  grew  and  waxed  strong  in 


NAZARETH.  47 

spirit,  and  increased  in  wisdom  and  stature, 
and  in  favor  with  God  and  man."  From  that 
humble  home  in  N'azareth  there  has  gone  forth 
a  power  which  has  abeady  encompassed  the 
earth,  and  is  destined  to  sway  the  sceptre  of 
suj)reme  command  over  all  nations. 

JN'azareth  was  written  upon  the  cross  in  the 
three  great  languages  which  gave  law,  art  and 
religion  to  the  world ;  and  the  name  shall  be 
associated  with  everything  that  rules,  refines 
and  consecrates  the  human  race,  long  as  faith 
finds  a  home  on  the  earth,  long  as  Christ  has  a 
kingdom  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

The  despised  name  of  the  place  and  the  peo- 
ple has  been  ascribed  to  the  greatest  achieve- 
ments and  possessions  of  man,  and  it  is  still 
borne  and  accepted  by  Him,  who  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  heaven.  Such  a  village,  however 
small  and  remote  and  despised,  may  well 
awaken  our  most  rational  and  devout  curiosity. 

The  double  range  of  Lebanon  diminishes  in 
height,  and  divides  into  waving  ridges  or 
rounded  hills,  as  it  approaches  the  great  plain 
of  Esdraelon.  Here  and  there,  the  mountain 
mass  separates  for  a  little  space  on  the  surface, 


48  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

and  then  unites  and  flows  on  as  the  water  of  a 
swift-running  stream,  divided  by  a  jutting  rock, 
unites  again  at  a  little  distance  below  the  ob- 
stacle, and  then  flows  on  at  its  former  level, 
leaving  a  hollow^  space  between  the  ppint  of 
separation  and  of  union.     In  such  a  narrow, 


depressed  valley,  a  mile  long  and  high  up 
above  the  plain,  and  w^alled  in  by  still  higher 
hills  stands  the  little  town  whose  existence  was 
not  known  in  history  till  it  became  the  home 
of  Jesus,  but  whose  name  has  now  been 
carried  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 


:n'azahetii.  49 

The  road  to  Jerusalem  which  the  Holy  Fam- 
ily traveled  every  year  going  and  returning, 
climbs  up  from  the  plain  over  a  long,  steep 
staircase  of  rocky  ledges  and  loosened  stones, 
where  the  sure-footed  Syrian  horses  fear  to 
climb,  and  the  bravest  riders  feel  safer  on  their 
feet.  Having  attained  a  ridge  half  as  high  as 
Tabor,  the  rugged  path  descends  into  a  se- 
cluded and  peaceful  vale,  on  the  south-western 
side  of  which  stands  Nazareth. 

The  name  was  thought  to  signify  "  place  of 
flowers."  And  the  name  was  well  chosen, 
whether  the  meaning  referred  to  the  millions 
of  flowers  strewn  through  the  valley,  or  to  the 
appearance  of  the  little  white  town  itself,  resting 
in  the  cup  of  the  one  colossal  flower,  of  which 
the  fifteen  encompassing  hills  are  the  green 
petals  to  enhance  its  beauty  and  to  protect  it 
from  danger.  The  soil  of  the  enclosed  basin 
is  fertile  and  well  cultivated.  Gardens  and 
corn-fields,  green  hedges  and  barren  foot-paths, 
clusters  of  orange  and  pomegranate,  olive  and 
fig-trees  diversify  the  plain  and  adorn  the  hill^ 
sides.  The  white  rocks  and  gray,  bare  ledges 
that  stand  out  here  and  there  upoi;  the  sjope^ 


50  WALKS   AXD    H03IES. 

and  upper  ridges  of  the  hills,  afford  a  pleasing 
and  impressive  contrast  with  the  green  hollows 
and  cultivated  grounds  below.  Walled  in  and 
sheltered  on  every  side  from  blighting  winds 
and  sudden  changes,  the  valley  enjoys  a  mild 
and  equable  climate,  and  brings  forth  fruit  and 
grain,  the  first  and  best  of  the  country  and  the 
season. 

The  traveler  who  crosses  the  great  battle  plain 
of  Esdraelon,  reviving  its  memories  of  blood 
as  he  rides  for  hours  through  a  waving  sea  of 
verdure,  and  then  climbs  the  steep  and  rocky 
defile  to  the  edge  of  the  basin  of  Nazareth, 
and  looks  down  through  thickets  of  vines  and 
groves  of  fig  and  olive  trees,  upon  the  quiet 
town  and  the  cultivated  gardens,  feels,  for  the 
moment,  that  he  has  alighted  upon  a  "  happy 
valley,"  where  the  pride  and  conflict  of  the 
world  can  never  come.  He  imagines  the  peace- 
ful inhabitants  of  this  secluded  vale  climbing 
the  natural  rampart  with  wliich  they  are  sur- 
rounded, and  looking  forth  with  horror  on  plun- 
dered fields  and  burning  towns,  and  slaughtered 
people  around  Tabor  and  Gilboa  and  Megiddo, 
and  rejoicing  that  the  wasteful  passions  which 


NAZARETH.  51 

make  man  a  wolf  to  man  have  never  been 
kindled  in  their  quiet  homes.  He  thinks  that 
here  at  last,  out  of  the  track  of  great  armies, 
afar  from  the  vices  and  corruptions  of  great 
cities  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  pomp  and 
pride  of  the  great  world,  truth  may  sj)eak 
uj)on  every  lip,  virtue  adorn  eA^ery  home, 
peace  dwell  in  every  heart. 

Alas !  that  the  first  page  in  the  history  of 
this  mountain  village,  and  the  first  hour's  ex- 
perience within  its  present  streets,  should  dis- 
sipate so  pleasant  a  dream.  No  mountain 
walls  can  shut  out  the  enemy  that  found  en- 
trance at  the  gates  of  Paradise.  'No  seclusion 
from  the  world  can  exempt  individuals  or  fam- 
ilies from  that  mortal  contagion  which  began 
with  the  first  sin,  and  still  runs  in  the  blood 
of  all  the  race.  The  people  of  JN'azareth  had 
a  bad  reputation  even  among  the  Galileans, 
the  rudest  and  worst  of  the  people  of  Pales- 
tine ;  and  the  residence  of  Jesus  in  the  little 
town  for  thirty  years  did  not  make  it  any 
better. 

How  significant  and  awful  the  humiliation 
of  the  Son  of  Grod,  that  he  should  consent  to 


52  WALKS   AND   HOMES. 

live  for  so  many  years  unhonored,  unknown, 
in  this  rude,  despised  and  wicked  town.  It 
would  have  been  infinite  condescension  in  him 
to  have  lived,  for  a  single  year,  in  the  holiest 
jDlace  on  earth ;  or  to  have  maintained  the 
state  of  kings  in  the  most  gorgeous  palace  ever 
built  by  human  hands  ;  or  to  have  received  the 
gifts  and  homage  of  all  nations,  while  every 
tongue  and  every  language  was  burdened  with 
his  praise. 

But  for  thirty  years  he  dwelt  in  a  town  from 
which  it  was  thought  a  wonder  if  any  good 
thing  should  come ;  he  passed  his  daily  life 
with  a  people  whose  treatment  of  him  war- 
ranted the  bad  reputation  which  their  neigh- 
bors gave  them.  He  began  his  mighty  work 
of  lifting  the  whole  human  race  up  from  dark- 
ness and  misery  by  going  down  himself  to 
that  condition  which  the  proud  world  despises 
and  tramples  upon.  He  set  his  own  feet  upon 
the  paths  which  the  poor  and  neglected  must 
tread.  He  took  to  his  own  bosom  the  woes 
Avhich  the  afflicted  must  suffer.  He  lived 
thirty  years  of  his  life  in  this  depraved  and 
despised  ^N'azareth,  that  he  might  pour  silent 


NAZARETH.  53 

contempt  upon  the  world's  pride  of  place,  and 
fortune,  and  fame.  He  passed  by  the  re- 
nowned seats  of  wisdom,  and  glory,  and  em- 
pire, and  made  his  home  in  this  humble, 
mountain  village,  that  his  followers  might  learn 
to  make  any  post  of  duty  honorable  by  their 
own  2Teatness  and  fidelity. 

It  will  take  all  the  centuries  of  time,  and 
the  ages  of  eternity  to  measure  the  distinction 
Avhich  the  name  of  Jesus  has  conferred  upon 
this  despised  JVazareth.  Everything  which 
meets  the  eye  within  this  narrow  vale  is  asso- 
ciated forever  with  him,  whose  work  shall  be- 
come the  song  of  all  nations,  and  whose  glory 
shall  till  the  earth  and  the  heavens.  To  some 
humble  home  in  this  quiet  vale,  Gabriel,  "  the 
mighty  one  of  God,"  was  sent  to  bear  the  best 
tidings  ever  brought  from  heaven  to  earth, — 
tidings  that  the  Prince,  the  Son  of  the  Highest, 
of  whom  the  same  heavenly  messenger  had 
spoken  to  Daniel  the  prophet,  five  hundred 
years  before,  was  about  to  appear.  To  this 
calm  retreat  the  infant  Saviour  came  back 
from  the  flight  into  Egypt. 

Breathing  this  air,  drinking  of  these  foun- 


54  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

tains,  eating  of  the  fruit  of  these  gardens,  liv- 
ing in  a  home  just  like  one  of  these  white  stone 
houses,  he  grew  from  infancy  to  manhood. 
Through  these  narrow  streets,  along  these 
winding  field-paths,  up  and  doAvn  these  ter- 
raced hill-sides,  up  and  down  the  steep  and 
stony  road,  from  the  great  plain  to  the  moun- 
tain valley,  he  passed  as  peasants  now  pass  to 
their  morning  toil  and  their  evening  rest.  He 
listened  to  the  birds  of  the  air,  the  lark,  the 
linnet,  the  nightingale  and  the  turtle  dove, 
whose  voices  are  now  heard  in  this  valley.  He 
delighted  himself  with  the  wild  flowers  that 
still  make  the  meadows  glow  with  their  beauty. 
This  dome  of  sky  spread  over  him  with  the 
brightness  of  noon,  with  the  glory  of  clouds, 
and  sunsets,  and  stars.  These  everlasting  hills 
offered  him  their  solitudes  for  a  sanctuary. 
These  wild  olive  groves,  beyond  the  cultivated 
fields,  covered  him  with  their  shadows  when 
he  spent  the  night  alone  in  communion  with 
his  Father.  These  dark  glens  heard  his  voice 
when  he  went  out  before  the  dawn  to  pray. 
From  these  lofty  heights  he  looked  forth  upon 
a  land  that  waited  a  thousand  vears  for  his 


!    Ji 


tllil 


illlHB 


NAZAKETH.  55 

coming,  and  received  him  not  when  he  came. 
From  the  rocky  walls,  reared  without  hands 
around  this  mountain  home,  he  refreshed  his 
spirit  in  the  morning  wind  from  the  great  sea, 
over  which  his  Gospel  should  be  carried  to  na- 
tions arud  continents  then  unknown. 

We  do  not  indeed  know  the  precise  spot  on 
which  the  home  of  Jesus  stood.  We  cannot 
tell  which  one  of  these  many  paths  among  the 
gardens  and  vineyards  was  trodden  by  his 
feet.  We  speak  only  from  strong  probability 
when  we  say  that  the  child  Jesus  must  have 
often  gone  forth  to  this  fountain  in  company 
with  the  blessed  mother.  But  it  is  certain  that 
his  home  was  in  this  quiet  vale,  and  that  the 
little  town,  "where  he  was  brought  up,"  is  still 
here.  And  that  alone  is  enough  to  make  the 
valley  of  Nazareth,  with  all  its  permanent  nat- 
ural features,  sacred  forevermore  in  the  mem- 
ory of  all  who  believe  that  Jesus  is  indeed  the 
Son  of  God. 

The  treatment  which  our  Lord  received 
when  he  attempted  to  begin  his  public  minis- 
tr}^  at  Nazareth,  is  a  sad  and  fearful  exhibition 
of  the   worst   passions   of  the   human    heart. 


56    '  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

He  had  been  baptized  in  Jordan  and  pro- 
claimed by  a  voice  from  heaven  as  the  Son  of 
God.  He  had  triumphed  in  a  three-fokl  con- 
flict with  the  Prince  of  darkness.  He  had 
manifested  forth  his  glory  by  mighty  works 
and  divine  instructions  at  Cana,  at  Capernaum 
and  at  Jerusalem.  He  had  returned  to  the 
secluded  home  where  he  had  lived  so  long, 
teaching  and  performing  miracles  as  he  came 
from  town  to  town,  in  the  synagogues,  in  the 
streets,  on  the  hill-sides,  by  the  sea-shore ; 
wherever  the  people  would  gather  to  hear, 
wherever  the  sick  were  brought  to  be  healed. 

His  fame  had  gone  before  him  and  his 
return  awakened  curiosity  in  Nazareth  itself. 
But  he  was  received  with  so  much  distrust  and 
jealousy,  that  even  he  who  had  lived  with  the 
people  thirty  years,  "  marvelled  at  their  unbe- 
lief." He  went  about  their  streets,  and  talked 
with  the  people,  and  laid  his  hands  on  a  few 
sick  persons  and  healed  them.  But  he  was 
everywhere  met  with  jealous  eyes  and  con- 
temptuous words.  The  members  of  his  own 
family  thought  he  w^as  "beside  himself,"  and 


NAZARETH.  67 

few  could  be  found  having  faith  enough  to  re- 
ceive aid  from  his  healing  power. 

When  the  Sabbath  came,  he  went  in  and 
took  his  seat  in  the  synagogue,  as  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  do  in  former  years.  The  ser- 
vice of  song  and  prayer  and  reading  the 
scriptures  and  exhortation  was  administered  by 
the  chief  elder  in  the  usual  form.  At  the 
close  of  the  service,  when  the  attendant  of  the 
synagogue  w^as  carrying  back  the  book  of  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  from  the  pulpit  in  the  centre 
of  the  house,  to  the  ark  at  the  end  towards 
Jerusalem  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  with  awe 
upon  the  sacred  scroll,  Jesus  stood  up  as  he 
could  do  according  to  the  usage  of  the  service, 
and  demanded  that  the  scroll  should  be  given 
him  to  read.  Unrolling  the  parchment  and 
standing  there,  himself  the  living  and  divine 
interpreter  of  the  prophet's  words,  he  read, 
"  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me ;  because 
he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the  gospel  to 
the  poor ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken- 
hearted, to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives, 
and  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind,  and  to  set 


58  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

at  libert}^  those  that  are  bruised,  to  preach  the 
acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 

It  was  a  great  occasion  for  the  little  town  of 
Nazareth,  when  Jesus  read  those  words  in 
their  synagogue  and  said,  "  This  day  is  this 
scrijDture  fulfilled  in  your  ears."  It  was  the 
first  time  that  he  had  publicly  declared  him- 
self to  be  the  Anointed  of  the  Lord.  JVone 
of  the  prophets  or  kings  or  judges  in  the 
whole  line  of  Jewish  history  had  ventured  to 
assume  that  exalted  and  awful  name  the  ]\Ies- 
siAH.  Leavino-  the  Holv  City,  and  all  the  sa- 
cred  and  renowned  places  in  the  land,  and  all 
the  wise  and  mighty  among  the  people  behind, 
he  had  come  to  this  rude  and  despised  moun- 
tain village  to  speak,  for  the  first  time,  the 
greatest  and  the  most  gracious  words  that  had 
ever  been  spoken  on  earth.  In  this  humble 
synagogue  of  [N'azareth,  he  had  made  the  dec- 
laration which  the  faithful  in  Israel  had 
waited  and  longed  for  ages  and  for  centuries  to 
hear,  and  had  died  without  the  sound. 

Oh !  happy  city,  to  whom  the  Prince  of 
peace  himself  brings  the  message  of  salvation. 
First  in  opportunity,  be  thou  first  to  welcome 


NAZARETH.  59 

the  world's  Redeemer,  and  all  nations  shall 
call  thee  blessed.  Let  thy  voice  break  forth  in 
the  first  hosannas  to  the  Lord's  Anointed,  and 
streams  of  salvation  shall  flow  from  thy  fa- 
vored valley  to  all  lands,  and  pilgrims  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  shall  come  to  walk  in 
the  shadow  of  thy  mountains  and  to  worship 
on  the  spot  where  Christ  received  the  first 
homage  of  a  ransomed  world. 

Alas !  for  unhappy,  unbelieving  Nazareth, 
that  the  rare  opportunity  to  attain  such  exalted, 
such  blessed  distinction  should  be  worse  than 
thrown  away.  The  eyes  of  all  in  the  syna- 
gogue were  fastened  upon  Jesus  when  he 
claimed  that  this  great  Messianic  prophecy 
was  fulfilled  in  him.  Their  astonishment 
knew  no  bounds.  They  had  seen  Jesus  a 
child  in  their  streets.  His  home  was  among 
the  poor ;  he  had  pursued  an  humble  and  la- 
borious occupation  for  years.  His  family  had 
never  gained  the  distinction  of  learning,  or 
riches,  or  rank,  or  power.  They  were  looking- 
for  a  Messiah  who  should  come  with  the  state 
of  a  king  and  the  glory  of  a  conqueror.  He 
must  appear  at  the  head  of  armies,  and  his  le- 


60  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

gions  must  fly  as  the  clouds.  He  must  tread 
down  the  heathen  in  his  wrath,  and  deliver 
Israel  from  every  yoke. 

Such  an  one  will  !N'azareth  receive  as  the 
anointed  of  the  Lord,  not  this  son  of  Mary, 
this  brother  of  James,  and  Joses,  and  Jude, 
who  had  been  known  among  them  as  a  carpen- 
ter for  twenty  years.  The  very  humiliation 
which  our  blessed  Lord  had  taken  upon  him- 
self in  love  for  our  lost  race,  and  which  should 
have  opened  every  heart  to  receive  him,  was 
an  offense  to  the  rude  and  passionate  people 
with  whom  he  had  lived  so  lono\ 

He  had  promised  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to 
the  poor.  They  only  desired  him  to  bestow 
the  riches  and  honors  of  a  kingdom  on  earth. 
He  had  come  to  heal  those  who  were  broken- 
hearted for  their  sins.  They  were  not  looking- 
for  such  consolation  as  can  be  attained  only 
through  j)enitence  and  contrition  of  soul.  He 
had  preached  deliverance  to  those  who  were 
held  captive  by  Satan.  They  were  more  anx- 
ious to  be  delivered  from  bondage  to  Caesar. 
He  had  come  in  meekness  and  lowliness,  in 
poverty  and  sorrow.     They  wanted  riches  and 


NAZARETH.  (31 

splendor ;    the  parade  of   monarchs,   and  the 
trumpets  of  victory. 

And  so  they  cried  out  against  him  with 
wrath  and  cursing.  Out  of  their  synagogue, 
out  of  their  city,  out  of  the  worhl  woukl  they 
cast  him  w^hose  only  offense  was  the  meekness 
and  plainness  with  which  he  had  spoken  the 
truth.  The  favored  people,  who  were  the  first 
to  hear  the  most  gracious  words  from  the  lips 
of  Christ  himself,  were  the  first  to  cry,  "  away 
with  him."  With  one  consent,  and  with  deaf- 
ening cries,  they  break  up  the  assembly ;  they 
surround  him ;  they  lay  hands  upon  him, 
every  one  eager  to  bear  a  part  in  destroying 
him ;  they  hurry  him  forth  to  the  brow  of  a 
precipice,  near  by  the  synagogue,  that  they 
may  cast  him  down  headlong.  But  suddenly 
when  they  looked  for  him,  he  was  not  there. 
He  had  passed  through  the  midst  of  them  and 
was  gone.  He  was  not  unwilling  to  die,  even 
for  their  redemption  ;  but  the  hour  for  the  sac- 
rifice had  not  yet  come.  They  had  had  the 
opportunity  to  secure  the  greatest  distinction 
ever  conferred  on  any  town  or  city  since  the 
world  began,  and  they  had  rejected  it. 


62  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  winter,  he 
came  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  to  this 
secluded  vale  of  jN^azareth,  after  the  people  had 
had  time  to  reflect  and  to  repent  of  their  mad- 
ness. He  came  when  the  fame  of  his  mighty 
works  had  filled  the  whole  land.  He  had  si- 
lenced and  cast  out  demons  with  his  word. 
The  sick  had  been  brought  to  him  out  of  all 
Galilee,  and  he  had  healed  them.  He  had 
given  sight  to  the  blind,  and  hearing  to  the 
deaf,  and  speech  to  the  dumb.  At  Capernaum 
and  at  the  neighboring  hill-town  of  Nain,  he 
had  raised  the  dead  to  life.  And  these  evi- 
dences of  his  divine  power  had  been  witnessed 
by  thousands.  And  the  name  of  JN'azareth 
had  gone  with  him  through  all  the  land. 

But  still  the  blinded  and  fanatical  JS'azarenes 
could  see  nothing  but  a  carpenter  in  the  son 
of  Mary.  Having  once  committed  themselves 
to  the  rejection  of  Jesus,  it  was  still  too  much 
for  their  pride  to  recognise  in  him  the  prom- 
ised Redeemer  of  Israel,  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  And  so  Nazareth  confirmed  and  fas- 
tened on  itself  forever  the  dreadful  reputation 
of  having  been  the  first  to  receive  the  public 


NAZARETH.  63 

announcement  of  the  Messiah  from  his  own 
lips,  and  the  first  to  reject  him. 

The  evidences  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  the 
Son  of  God  and  the  only  Saviour,  have  been 
increasing  from  century  to  century,  for  eighteen 
hundred  years,  and  still  there  are  millions  to 
reject  him.  He  comes  to  the  weary  with  the 
offer  of  rest,  and  they  cling  to  their  burdens 
and  refuse  his  help.  .  He  comes  to  the  afflicted, 
offering  to  heal  their  sorrows  and  bear  their 
grief,  and  they  still  mourn  over  their  troubles 
and  will  not  be  comforted.  He  comes  to  the 
worldly  and  the  unbelieving,  to  the  disap- 
pointed and  the  unhappy,  offering  to  do  for 
them  just  what  they  need  most  to  have  done, 
bringing  the  testimony  of  millions  on  earth  and 
in  heaven,  that  he  is  able  to  do  all  that  he  pro- 
mises. iVnd  yet  they  shut  their  hearts  against 
him  ;  they  live  without  peace,  and  they  die 
without  hope. 

When  Jesus  shall  come  in  his  glory,  the 
men  of  Nazareth  will  pray  to  be  covered  by 
the  rocks  of  their  own  mountains,  rather  than 
meet  the  face  of  him  wdiom  they  thrust  out  of 
their  synagogue,  and  w^ould  have  hurled  down 


64  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

the  precipice  of  their  hill -side.  Still  greater 
in  that  day  will  be  the  consternation  of  those 
who  have  had  the  history  of  Christianity  for 
two  thousand  years  and  the  testimony  of  mil- 
lions on  earth  and  in  heaven  to  help  their 
faith,  and  yet  have  not  believed. 

It  is  indeed  human  to  err,  and  the  wisest 
often  mistake.  But  all  other  mistakes  are  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  one  of  rejecting 
Christ.  All  have  sinned,  and  if  God  should 
be  strict  to  mark  iniquity  against  us,  we  could 
not  answer  him  for  one  of  a  thousand  of  our 
transgressions.  And  all  other  sins  may  be  for- 
given. But  for  him  wdio  rejects  Christ,  there 
is  no  other  Saviour.  To  reject  him  is  to  reject 
inhnite  love,  infinite  truth,  infinite  mercy.  To 
turn  him  from  the  heart  is  to  renounce  all  of 
life,  and  peace,  and  joy,  that  heaven  and  etern- 
ity have  in  store  for  the  redeemed  soul.  To  re- 
ject Christ  is  to  say,  "Prison  of  despair  be  my 
habitation  ;  Prince  of  darkness,  reign  over  me 
forever." 


CAPERNAUM 


Leaving  Nazareth.  He   came   and  dwelt   in    Capernaum. — 
Matt.  iv.  13. 


III. 

CAPERNAUM. 


SEA  OF  TIBERIAS. 


^T  Bethlehem,  Jesus  was  born,  at  Naza- 


reth, he  was  brought  up,  at  Jerusa- 
lem, he  died.  Capernaum  enjoys  the 
rare  distinction  of  being  called  "his  own  city." 
At  Capernaum  alone,  he  is  said  to  have  been 
' '  at  home."  Expelled  from  their  synagogue  and 
from  their  streets  by  the  rude  and  fanatical 
dwellers  among  the  hills,  he  came  down  to  the 


67 


68  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

lake-side  to  make  his  abode  and  begin  his  min- 
istry. 

The  little  sea  of  Galilee  tills  the  bed  of  a 
volcanic  rift  among  the  highlands.  The  waters 
from  the  hills  have  run  down  and  filled  the 
mouth  of  the  furnace  out  of  which  the  earth- 
fires  once  flamed.  The  steam,  rising  from  hot 
and  sulphurous  fountains  flowing  across  the 
white  beach  at  the  southern  extremity,  proves 
that  the  fires  are  still  burning  beneath.  The 
lake  looks  the  less  in  size  because  it  lies  so 
deep  between  the  parted  hills,  and  the  clearness 
of  the  atmosphere  brings  the  encompassing 
walls  so  near  each  other. 

When  the  sky  is  clear,  and  the  sun  is  high 
at  noon,  and  the  scathed  and  furrowed  clitfs 
cast  no  shadows  upon  the  still  surface  of  the 
water,  the  whole  landscape  has  a  blasted  and 
desolate  expression,  as  if  lying  under  the  spell 
of  some  awful  doom.  But  the  whole  scene  is 
changed  when  the  day  breaks  with  the  glory 
of  an  eastern  dawn  over  the  hills  of  Bash  an, 
or  the  evening  casts  its  purple  shadow  from  Ta- 
bor and  the  mount  of  the  Beatitudes,  or  a  sud- 
den blast  rushes  down  through  the  wild  gorges 


CAPERNAUM.  69 

of  the  high  table-lands,  and  lashes  the  whole 
surtace  of  the  lake  into  snow-white  foam. 
Travelers,  who  only  ride  down  from  the  hills 
of  Galilee  and  spend  a  hot  and  weary  day  in 
traversing  the  white  beach,  gazing  npon  the 
glimmering  sand,  the  glassy  waters,  and  the 
brown  shore,  are  apt  to  pronounce  the  whole 
scene  desolate,  monotonous  and  uninteresting. 
But  those  who  take  time  to  witness  the  changes 
of  calm  and  storm,  morning  and  evening,  noon 
and  night,  never  tire  of  talking  of  its  beauty. 

Tlie  Avhole  region  has  greatly  changed  since 
Jesus  came  down  from  Nazareth  to  make  his 
new  home  at  Capernaum.  Then  the  lake  was 
alive  with  boats,  scudding  before  the  wind, 
moving  slow  with  laboring  oars,  or  resting  in 
the  calm  with  drooping  sails.  The  white  line 
of  the  shore  was  set  with  bright  little  towns, 
like  a  string  of  pearls  encased  between  the 
edge  of  the  burnished  mirror  and  its  brown 
frame- work  of  hills.  Villages  of  white  stone 
houses  coA^ered  the  neighboring  heights ;  ham- 
lets clustered  on  the  terraced  slopes,  and  at  the 
head  of  valleys  looking  toward  the  lake.  The 
sower  cast  his  seed  into  all  the  good  ground  of 


70  WALKS    A^^D    HOMES. 

the  narrow  plain,  and  the  vintager  trained  his 
vines  wherever  earth  enough  could  be  found  to 
hold  the  root  on  the  sunnv  cliffs  and  ledo'es. 

The  deep  depression  of  the  hike  acted  upon 
the  enclosed  air  like  some  vast  conservatory, 
keeping  up  a  tropical  temperature  through 
most  of  the  year.  Flowers  blossomed  and 
fruits  ripened  on  the  shores,  while  the  snow 
lay  in  sight  on  the  hills  above.  The  fishermen 
boasted  that  they  drank  the  waters  of  the  Nile 
and  enjoyed  the  climate  of  Egypt,  while  the 
shepherds  were  shivering  with  cold  on  the 
neighboring  heights,  or  were  wandering  from 
valley  to  valley  in  search  of  fountains  for  their 
thirsty  flocks.  The  green  band  lying  between 
the  white  beach  and  the  base  of  the  hills,  was 
crossed  and  fertilized  in  many  places  by  streams 
bursting  forth  with  a  river's  strength,  from  the 
foot  of  the  cliffs.  In  one  i^^^^ce  this  narrow 
band  widened  to  a  breadth  of  several  miles, 
forming  a  plain  which  received  the  name  of 
Gennesaret, — ''Gardens  of  Princes," — "Para- 
dise." Near  the  northern  boundary  of  this 
fertile  plain  was  the  town  where  Jesus  came  to 
make  his  home. 


CAPERNAUM.  71 

Capernaum  was  but  one  of  nine  cities  stand- 
ing directly  upon  the  lake-shore,  the  whole 
circuit  of  Avhich  could  be  seen  fi^om  the  roof 
of  the  synagogue  which  the  Roman  centurion 
had  built,  and  in  which  Jesus  often  taught. 
From  the  same  point,  numerous  high  places 
could  be  seen  on  the  Galilean  shore,  crowned 
with  villages,  the  least  of  which  was  large 
enough  to  be  called  a  city;  beautiful,  as  all 
eastern  towns  are  beautiful  in  the  distance; 
shining  with  their  white  stone  houses,  like  ala- 
baster in  the  morning  sun,  and  all  crowded 
with  a  restless  and  busy  population.  During 
the  day,  pleasure  boats  were  darting  to  and  fro 
upon  the  whole  surface  of  the  lake,  and  at  eve- 
ning, hundreds  of  fishermen  put  forth  to  let 
down  their  nets  and  gather  of  every  kind. 

Jesus  did  not  go  down  to  Capernaum  to  seek 
retirement,  or  to  find  a  quiet  and  cultivated 
people.  The  toAvn  was  in  the  very  focus  of  all 
social  and  industrial  activity  in  northern  Pal- 
estine. The  region  was  more  densely  peopled 
than  any  other  portion  of  the  country,  and  the 
population  was  more  various  than  elsewhere. 
Jew,  Greek  and  Roman  mingled  with  Arab, 


72  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

Persian  and  Egyptian,  in  the  streets  of  the  ten 
cities,  and  in  the  trade  of  the  miniature  sea. 
The  only  carriage  roads  ever  made  in  Palestine 
were  built  by  the  Romans,  and  the  most  im- 
portant of  them  all  passed  through  Capernaum 
from  Damascus  to  Jerusalem.  Pilgrims,  mer- 
chants, caravans,  scholars,  laborers,  devotees, 
were  continually  passing  north  and  south.  The 
words  spoken  by  Jesus  on  the  Mount  of  the 
Beatitudes  Avithin  sight  of  the  city,  and  the 
mighty  works  done  by  him  in  its  streets, 
would  soon  be  reported  in  Syria  and  Arabia,  in 
Greece  and  Egypt,  as  well  as  in  all  Palestine. 

The  great  Teacher  bound  up  his  sacred  pre- 
cepts with  all  the  peculiar  seasons,  aspects  and 
occupations  of  the  region ;  and  he  put  forth  his 
divine  power  to  help  and  to  heal  Jew,  Greek 
and  Roman;  the  rich  who  were  courted  for 
their  Avealth,  and  the  poor  who  were  despised 
for  their  poverty ;  the  leprous  whom  everybody 
shunned,  and  the  possessed  whom  everybody 
feared.  So,  taking  his  stand  where  the  stream 
of  the  world's  travel  passed  between  east  and 
west,  north  and  south,  Babylon  and  Rome, 
Scythia  and  Ethiopia,  speaking  to  instruct,  and 


CATEKNAUM.  73 

putting  forth  his  hand  to  help  all  that  went  and 
came,  Jesus  presented  himself  as  the  Saviour 
of  men,  the  Desired  of  all  nations,  the  bond  of 
union  between  all  kindreds  and  tribes  of  the 
earth.  His  peculiar  mode  of  teaching  in  the 
synagogue  of  Capernaum,  on  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  and  on  the  hill-sides  above  the  city,  has 
the  stamp  of  reality  in  every  illustration,  and 
it  has  graven  the  leading  features  of  the  scene 
upon  the  minds  of  millions  who  were  never 
there. 

1.    THE   SEA-SIDE. 

The  time  that  Jesus  abode  in  Capernaum  is 
divided  into  nine  periods  of  sojourn  in  the  city, 
and  nine  of  missionary  excursions  through  the 
neighboring  towns  and  districts.  Four  times 
we  find  him  tcciching  by  the  lake-side,  three 
times  in  the  synagogue,  once  on  the  mount 
above  the  city,  and  always  speaking  the  words 
of  eternal  life,  as  he  came  and  went  up  and 
down  the  wild  paths  of  the  hill-country,  as  he 
entered  into  hamlets  and  villao-es,  crossed  and 
recrossed  the  lake,  dined  and  lodged  with  rich 
and  poor  and  made  himself  equally  familiar 
with  all  the  interests  and  occupations  of  men, 


74  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

By  liis  blessed  life  and  mighty  works  and  divine 
instructions,  he  made  the  lake,  the  shore,  the 
hills,  the  sky,  hallowed  in  the  liearts  of  his 
followers  for  all  succeeding  time.  By  reviving, 
so  far  as  we  can,  scenes  in  the  midst  of  which 
he  lived  and  walked  with  men,  we  give  reality 
to  our  faith,  we  bring  the  divine  and  human 
into  closer  relations  with  each  other,  we  make 
it  easier  to  believe  that  even  novv^,  the  humblest 
home  may  receive  the  Son  of  God  for  a  guest, 
the  lowliest  occupation  may  be  of  service  to 
him. 

I^et  us  go  down  to  the  lake-side  and  listen, 
while  Jesus  speaks  to  the  fishermen  on  the 
shore.  It  is  the  morning  hour,  and  the  flush 
of  dawn  is  kindling  and  rising  along  the  level 
wall  of  the  eastern  mountains.  The  hills,  the 
shore,  the  white  towns,  the  oak  woods  of  Tabor 
and  the  barren  heights  of  Bashan  rise  to  view 
with  increasing  clearness,  and  above,  the  stars, 
that  hung  all  night  like  crystal  lamps  from  the 
blue  dome  of  the  sky,  go  out,  one  by  one,  in 
the  coming  glory  of  the  full  day.  The  still 
surface  of  the  lake  lies  like  a  dark  mirror  of 
burnished  steel  encased  in  its  hioh  frame-work 


CAPEKNAUM.  75 

of  hills,  receiving  and  reflecting  tlie  rapid 
changes  of  light  and  shade,  from  night  to 
morning.  The  birds  of  the  air  break  the  si- 
lence first  with  a  solitary  note,  and  then  with 
a  swelling  chorus  of  voices  that  fills  the  whole 
vault  of  heaven. 

The  growing  light  reveals  a  person  of  calm 
and  thoughtful  aspect,  walking  alone  up  the 
sandy  shore.  It  is  Jesus  himself.  He  has 
risen  up  a  great  while  before  the  day,  and  gone 
down  to  the  lake-side  to  have  a  quiet  hour  of 
meditation  and  prayer.  The  houses  and  the 
mode  of  lodging  at  night  among  the  people 
with  whom  he  lived,  did  not  afibrd  opportunity 
for  retirement,  and  he  must  needs  anticipate 
the  day,  and  go  out  into  desert  places,  if  he 
would  be  alone  with  his  Father.  And  hence 
we  find  him  at  this  early  hour,  walking  upon 
the  sandy  beach  of  the  sea  of  Galilee.  The 
fishermen  are  beginning  to  gather  in  from  their 
night's  toil  on  the  lake,  and  the  busy  multi- 
tudes are  astir  in  the  town.  In  Palestine 
everybody  rises  up,  not  indeed  a  great  while 
before  the  day,  but  early  in  the  morning.  The 
morning  is  given  to  toil,  the  noon  to  rest,  the 


76  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

evening  to  conversation,  the  night  to  sleep. 
And  now  in  Capernaum,  travelers  are  starting 
on  their  journey,  laborers  are  going  out  to  work 
in  the  fields  and  A^neyards,  inerchantmen  are 
pursuing  their  trade,  women  are  bringing  water 
from  fountains,  shepherds  are  leading  forth 
their  flocks  on  the  hills,  and  fishermen  are 
gathering  upon  the  shore. 

Jesus  is  no  longer  alone.  The  toilers  upon 
the  sea  signal  to  each  other,  that  the  Prophet 
of  JNTazareth  may  be  seen  on  the  shore,  and 
laboring  oars  are  pulling  in  boats  from  every 
direction.  The  multitudes,  who  had  followed 
Jesus  from  the  hill-country  and  had  lodged  in 
the  town  over  night,  have  learned  his  retreat, 
and  are  hurrvino-  down  to  the  beach,  carrvino- 
with  them  as  many  more  from  the  streets  of 
Capernaum.  The  surging  crowd  gather  closer 
and  closer  upon  Jesus  until  he  is  pressed  down 
to  the  water's  edge.  At  last  he  is  compelled 
to  request  one  of  the  fishermen  to  receive  him 
into  his  boat,  and  thrust  out  a  little  from  the 
land,  that  the  people  may  no  longer  tread  upon 
each  other  in  the  endeavor  to  approach  him, 


CAPERNAUM.  77 

and  that  they  may  the  better  give  quiet  atten- 
tion to  his  AYords. 

And  so  he  sits  in  the  bow  of  the  unsteady 
boat,  teaching  the  multitude  that  stand  or  re- 
cline and  listen  on  the  shore.  Calm,  patient, 
condescending,  he  bears  with  their  rudeness, 
he  pities  their  ignorance,  he  speaks  to  them  as 
man  never  spake. 

Oh  !  what  a  scene  is  this.  The  Son  of  God, 
the  King  of  heaven,  the  Sovereign  of  all  worlds, 
comes  upon  a  mission  of  mercy  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  nations,  and  he  passes  by  the  schools 
of  philosophy,  the  courts  of  kings,  the  camp 
of  the  conqueror,  and  he  goes  down  to  the 
lake-side,  in  the  early  morning,  to  deliver  his 
message  to  peasants  and  fishermen.  He  sits 
there  upon  the  swaying  seat  of  a  fisherman's 
boat,  talking  to  the  rude  and  noisy  crowd  on 
the  shore,  Avhen  he  might  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  heaven,  and  receive  the  homage  of  arch- 
angels. 

And  in  this  humble  scene  on  the  shore  of  the 
Galilean  lake,  we  find  the  most  momentous 
crisis  in  human  destiny.  Under  the  calm 
deportment  of  this  unpretending  teacher,  who 


78  AVALKS   AND    HOMES. 

came  down  from  the  hills  of  JN'azareth,  is  trea- 
sured up  the  germ  of  revolutions  and  con- 
quests, heroisms  and  sacrifices  which  shall 
make  a  new  history  for  the  world.  With  his 
gentle  words  there  shall  go  forth  a  power  to 
stir  and  shake  the  nations,  as  the  lake  is 
roused  and  ploughed  into  foam  by  a  sudden 
blast  fi'om  the  hills  of  Bashan.  The  conquests 
of  Caesar  and  Alexander,  the  decrees  of  the 
Roman  senate,  the  founding  of  Athens  and 
Rome  and  Alexandria  were  events  of  trifling- 
importance  in  the  world's  history,  compared 
with  the  work  which  Jesus  was  doing,  when  he 
taught  the  multitudes  on  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
and  called  Simon,  and  Andrew,  and  James,  and 
John,  to  forsake  their  nets  and  follow  him. 

These  unlettered  peasants  of  Galilee  shall 
fulfill  their  divine  commission  with  a  wisdom 
and  energy  correspondent  to  its  greatness. 
They  shall  acquire  an  unrivalled  mastery  over 
the  cultivated  mind  of  the  Avorld.  They  shall 
be  quoted  as  supreme  authority  at  the  head  of 
armies  and  in  the  councils  of  nations.  They 
shall  start  revolutions  in  opinion  before  which 
the  mighty  fabric  of  old  superstitions  shall  be 


CAPERNAUM.  79 

cast  clown,  and  the  profound  theories  of  philos- 
ophers shall  be  changed  to  fables.  They  shall 
be  more  honored,  and  their  lives  and  instruc- 
tions shall  be  studied  more  earnestly,  the  higher 
the  world  rises  in  intellectual  and  moral  culti- 
vation. And  all  these  mighty  results  shall  flow 
from  words  which  Jesus  speaks  to  a  company 
of  poor,  tired,  hungry,  disappointed  fishermen, 
on  the  shore  of  the  sea  of  Gralilee.  So  truly 
was  it  one  of  the  great  hours  of  destiny  for  the 
world,  when  Jesus  said  to  those  wondering  and 
awe-struck  men,  "  Follow  me." 

We  have  only  to  listen  to  the  words  of 
Jesus  as  he  speaks  by  the  sea-side,  and  we 
shall  be  able  to  clothe  the  most  striking  fea- 
tures of  the  scene  with  livino;  realitv.  Before 
him,  in  full  sight,  as  he  looks  toward  the  peo- 
ple on  the  shore,  is  the  fertile  and  beautiful 
plain  of  Gennesaret.  The  unfenced  fields  are 
divided  only  by  foot-paths  and  land-marks. 
At  this  season  of  the  year,  in  the  tropical  cli- 
mate on  the  depressed  level  around  the  lake, 
the  sower  and  the  reaper  may  be  seen  scattering 
and  gathering  different  kinds  of  grain  side  by 
side.     On  the  slopes  of  the  hills  beyond,  are 


80  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

shelving  rocks,  where  the  thin  earth,  moistened 
by  the  early  rain,  catches  the  first  warmth  of 
spring  and  shoots  up  the  most  rapid  growth. 
When  the  rains  cease  and  the  sun  shines  all 
day  from  a  cloudless  sky,  the  premature 
growth  withers  away  because  it  has  no  deep- 
ness of  earth.  Everywhere  along  the  path- 
ways in  the  neo'lected  corners  of  the  fields  and 
up  the  hill-sides,  may  be  seen  tufts  of  tliorns 
growing  so  thickly  as  to  choke  all  other  vege- 
tation. The  birds  of  the  air  are  sporting  and 
foraging  for  their  morning  meal  in  every  direc- 
tion, caring  little  for  the  cries  of  watchmen 
who  are  set  upon  towers  and  under  booths  to 
fray  them  away.  There  are  no  solitary  farm- 
houses scattered  through  the  cultivated  lands. 
The  sower,  the  reaper,  the  vintager,  must  all 
'^  o'o  forth  "  from  the  town  to  their  daily  task. 

All  this  can  be  seen  by  the  multitude  from 
the  lake-side  in  the  clear  light  of  the  morning, 
when  Jesus  takes  up  his  parable  and  says,  "  A 
sower  went  forth  to  sow."  The  birds  alighting 
upon  the  paths  through  the  unfenced  fields 
where  some  of  the  soAver's  seed  would  always 
fall,  the  thin  earth  of  the  stony  places,  already 


CAPERNAUM.  81 

parched  and  withered  by  the  advancing  season, 
the  stubborn  thorns  choking  all  useful  vegeta- 
tion, and  the  good  ground  bringing  forth  a 
hundred  fold  for  the  reaper's  hand,  are  all  in 
sight  while  the  divine  Teacher  emjDloys  these 
natural  similitudes  in  setting  forth  the  recep- 
tion of  his  word  in  the  human  heart.  And  he 
so  binds  up  the  great  truths  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom  with  these  earthly  things,  that  the 
sun  and  the  rain,  the  seasons  and  the  harvests, 
will  continue  to  repeat  his  sacred  lessons  to  the 
susceptible  heart,  so  long  as  the  world  shall 
stand. 

Alas !  how  many  hearts  are  still  like  the 
hard-beaten  track  of  the  barren  and  dusty 
road,  insensible  as  the  pavement  of  the  trodden 
street,  open  for  the  passage  of  all  the  world's 
burdens  and  business,  but  receiving  the  pre- 
cious seed  of  the  divine  word  only  to  have  it 
stolen  away  by  the  first  plunderer  or  tempter 
that  passes.  How  many  are  like  the  thin 
earth  upon  the  rock,  receiving  the  message  of 
life  with  sudden  joy,  burning  with  zeal  to  pro- 
claim the  new  hope,  rebuking  the  thoughtful 
and  the  considerate  for  coldness  and  delav,  and 


82  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

yet  all  withered  and  lifeless  under  the  increas- 
ing heat  of  trial  and  temptation,  which  is  sent 
to  bring  forth  fruit  unto  perfection.  How 
many  are  like  the  neglected  borders  and  cor- 
ners of  the  held,  so  overgrown  with  thorny 
cares  and  anxieties,  with  earthly  pleasures  and 
ambitions,  that  the  things  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom  can  find  no  place  in  their  hearts. 
And  yet  when  the  seed  of  the  divine  word  falls 
into  the  good  ground  of  an  honest  and  believ- 
ing heart,  it  is  sure  to  bring  forth  fruit  unto 
eternal  life.  'Not  only  a  hundred,  but  infinite 
fold  shall  be  the  harvest  of  peace  and  joy 
springing  from  a  faithful  reception  of  Christ's 
word  b}"  a  single  soul. 

The  whole  vrestern  shore  of  the  lake  is  gilded 
over  with  the  yellow  blossoms  of  a  plant  that 
grows  by  cultivation  in  the  gardens,  springs 
up  unbidden  among  the  wheat  and  barley,  lines 
the  pathwa^^s  among  the  hills,  and  sheds  its 
pungent  fragrance  on  the  air,  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  through  the  whole  of  Galilee.  It  is 
the  wild  mustard,  growing  so  high  above  all 
kinds  of  grass  and  grain  as  to  be  called  a  tree. 
Birds  alight  upon  its  branches  and  laborers 


CAPEENAUM.  83 

rest  beneath  its  shadow.  It  springs  from  a 
seed  so  small  as  to  afford  a  comparison  for  the 
least  of  anything- ;  and  it  grows  with  irrepres- 
sible vitality  all  over  the  land. 

All  this  is  before  the  eye  and  familiar  to  the 
observation  of  all  who  listen  when  Jesus  says, 
"The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  to  a  grain  of 
mustard  seed."  In  such  vivid  forms  does  he 
lodge  in  their  wondering  minds  the  germ  of  the 
great  truth  that  the  work  begun  by  him  in  so 
simple  a  manner  on  the  shore  of  that  quiet 
lake,  shall  live  and  expand  until  it  fills  the 
earth.  This  little,  fiery,  pungent  seed,  which 
gives  forth  its  power  the  more  it  is  bruised,  and 
which  grows  on  every  hill-side  and  in  every 
valley  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  destroy  it,  shall 
help  these  poor  Galileans  to  understand  the 
quickening  power,  and  the  invulnerable  life  of 
the  truth,  which  is  to  spread  from  the  lips  of 
Jesus  over  all  lands  and  through  all  ages. 

This  wondrous  kingdom  of  God,  whose 
Prince  appears  as  a  Galilean  peasant,  who 
makes  prime  ministers  of  the  poor,  and  takes 
a  fishing  boat  for  a  throne,  shall  grow  in  great- 
ness and  in  o'lorv,  until  all  the  kino-doms  of 


84  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

the  earth  become  subject  to  its  power,  and  all 
the  principalities  of  heaven  rejoice  in  its  tri- 
umph. This  promised  unity  of  nations,  which 
the  princes  and  philosophers  of  this  world 
could  never  comprehend;  this  mighty  moral 
revolution,  which  is  to  make  all  other  changes 
and  conflicts  the  instruments  of  its  own  accom- 
plishment, is  the  great  germinal  truth,  planted 
by  Jesus  himself  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  of 
Galilee,  when  teaching  the  multitude  from  a 
fishing  boat.  The  fruit  of  that  seed  has  already 
given  life  to  millions,  and  it  is  destined  to  fill 
the  earth  with  the  abundance  of  peace  and 
salvation . 

This  whole  region  has  been  repeatedly  over- 
run and  devastated  by  invading  armies,  and 
by  roving  bands  of  lawless  men,  whose  sole 
object  is  to  plunder  and  destroy.  From  the 
days  of  Solomon,  and  Joshua,  and  Abraham, 
the  whole  country  around  the  lake  has  been 
subject  to  every  change  and  calamity  which 
can  make  life  and  property  insecure.  Princes 
have  robbed  peasants  and  merchantmen ;  gov- 
ernment has  robbed  princes;  conquerors  have 
robbed  all  alike,     i^nanges  in  the  ruling  power 


CArERNAUM.  85 

liave  been  frequent  and  liable  to  occur  at  any 
time;  and  whatever  the  change,  the  holders  of 
property  must  always  suffer.  For  centuries  it 
has  been  the  study  of  the  people  to  save  pro- 
perty from  robbery,  extortion  and  conscription. 
It  has  become  a  maxim  of  prudence  and  fore- 
sight with  the  rich,  that  a  third  of  one's  pos- 
sessions should  be  hidden  in  the  earth. 

This  has  been  the  feeling  and  the  custom  of 
the  country  for  more  than  a  thousand  years. 
In  many  cases,  the  place  of  concealment  has 
been  forgotten  or  lost  through  the  sudden 
death,  imprisonment  or  exile  of  the  only  one 
who  knew  the  secret.  And  so  the  impression 
is  everywhere  diffused,  that  immense  sums 
may  lie  buried  in  any  man's  field  or  garden, 
and  no  living  owner  to  claim  them.  Every 
one  has  heard  tales  of  great  riches  suddenly 
acquired  by  the  discovery  of  treasures  hidden 
in  the  earth.  Treasure-seeking  has  been  taken 
up  as  a  profession  to  the  neglect  of  the  regular 
pursuits  of  industry.  Some  go  about  the  coun- 
try, pretending  to  the  art  of  detecting  the  place 
where  money  has  been  concealed.  Men  have 
fainted  or  become  frantic  with  excitement  upon 


86  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

discovering  a  trifling  sum.  The  peasant  in  the 
fields,  the  householder  in  his  garden,  the  tra- 
veler by  the  wayside,  is  all  alive  to  any  indi- 
cation, that  possibly  he  may  light  upon  great 
riches  hidden  in  the  earth.  All  over  Gralilee 
men  can  be  easily  found,  in  any  number,  to 
dig  all  night  in  desperate  earnestness  and  with 
the  utmost  secrecy,  with  the  bare  hope  that 
some  idle  tale  or  mischievous  invention  of 
professional  treasure-detectors  may  prove  true. 

Jesus  speaks  to  men  upon  whose  fervid  im- 
aginations all  these  wild  traditions  and  extrav- 
agant expectations  have  taken  effect  from  the 
earliest  youth.  In  the  midst  of  a  country, 
where  these  customs  have  been  universal  for  a 
thousand  years,  he  draws  the  attention  of  the 
multitude  to  the  only  permanent  and  satisfying 
possession  by  saying,  "  The  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven is  like  unto  treasure  hid  in  a  field,  the 
which,  when  a  man  hath  found,  he  hideth, 
and  for  joy  thereof  goeth  and  selleth  all  that 
he  hath  and  buyeth  that  field." 

He  would  show  them  that  there  is  an  infinite 
treasure  hidden  where  all  who  seek  can  find  it. 
He  has  come  to  lead  and  direct  the  search. 


CAPEENAUM.  87 

The  poorest  who  keep  his  word  shall  be  made 
richer  than  all  the  princes  of  the  earth.  This 
infinite  treasure  can  be  found  by  every  one,  in 
the  path  where  he  walks,  in  the  house  where 
he  lives.  When  found,  it  can  be  kept  so  as 
never  to  be  lost,  and  he  who  possesses  it,  shall 
only  be  made  richer  by  sharing  it  with  others. 
To  possess  such  a  treasure,  one  can  well  afford 
to  sell  or  sacrifice  all  else  that  he  has. 

2.    THE    SYNAGOGUE. 

The  Jews  of  Capernaum  were  proud  of  their 
synagogue.  It  was  built  by  a  Roman  Cen- 
turion as  a  tribute  of  respect  for  their  simple 
form  of  worship,  and  for  the  sublime  truths 
of  their  religion.  It  was  made  of  white  marble, 
beautiful  in  proportions,  and  shining  like  the 
snows  of  Hermon  in  the  morning  sun.  Its 
dazzling  whiteness  was  the  more  conspicuous 
from  contrast  with  the  houses  of  black,  vol- 
canic rock  with  which  it  was  surrounded.  It 
was  equal  in  dimensions  to  the  temple  of  Solo- 
mon. Its  colonnade  and  portico  were  of 
Grecian  style,  and  the  ruins  of  to-day  remind 
the  traveler  of  the  fluted  shafts  and  finished 


88  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

capitals  of  Ephesus  and  Athens.  It  stood 
upon  the  high  ground,  with  its  pillared  front 
and  lofty  steps,  wide  as  the  whole  structure, 
facing  to  the  north.  The  whole  upper  portion 
of  the  building,  ornamented  wdth  deeply 
carved  flutings  and  flowers  and  acanthus 
leaves,  rose  above  the  surrounding  houses 
of  the  city,  and  could  be  clearly  seen  from  every 
town  and  village  on  the  shore  of  the  lake. 

The  worshipper  dipped  his  hands  in  the 
water  of  a  running  fountain  as  he  mounted  the 
lofty  steps.  Then  he  reverently  and  solemnly 
crossed  the  marble  floor  of  the  broad  portico, 
pushed  aside  the  heavy  curtain  from  the  door- 
Avay,  entered  and  bowed  himself  in  prayer  with 
his  face  towards  Jerusalem.  Once  within  the 
walls,  he  must  leave  all  worldly  employments 
and  conversation  without.  The  building  it- 
self, once  dedicated  to  religious  w^orship,  must 
never  be  used  for  any  other  purpose. 

At  the  upper  end  stood  the  ark  or  chest,  in 
which  the  book  of  the  law  was  kept ;  and  the 
presence  of  the  sacred  scroll  made  that  part  of 
the  building  the  most  holy  place.  The  lid  of 
the  chest  was  called  the  mercy  seat,  and  a  veil 


CArEllNAUM.  89 

hung  before  it  lest  its  sanctity  slionld  be  pro- 
faned by  too  frequent  exposure  to  vulgar  eyes. 
Before  the  ark  stood  a  golden  candle-stick  with 
eight  branches,  lighted  only  on  great  festivals, 
and  a  single  silver  lamp  which  was  kept  burn- 
ing day  and  night.  At  this  upper  end  of  the 
synagogue  were  the  "  chief  seats,"  which  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  loved.  In  the  central 
portion  of  the  building,  was  a  raised  platform 
with  a  pulpit  or  reading  desk  in  the  middle. 
The  minister  of  the  congregation  ascended  the 
pulpit  and  the  elders  took  their  places  upon 
the  platform  around  him.  The  rich  and  titled 
personages  vied  with  other  in  securing  the 
places  of  honor  at  the  upper  end.  The  com- 
mon people  came  in  like  their  superiors,  bow- 
ing to  the  ark,  and  taking  their  places  upon 
the  wooden  benches  or  the  marble  floor. 

The  ordinary  service  of  the  synagogue  was 
a  modification  of  the  more  stately  and  impos- 
ing service  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  And 
the  general  form  of  service  in  Christian 
churches  is  a  modification  of  the  service  of  the 
synagogue.  First  was  the  prayer  of  invocation 
and  praise.     Then  the  whole  congregation,  led 


90  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

by  ten  men  appointed  to  conduct  the  service 
of  song,  joined  in  singing  the  psahns  of  David. 
Then  a  person  called  the  chazzan,  who  had  "the 
general  care  of  the  building,  Avent  up  to  the 
ark,  reverently  drew  aside  the  veil,  lifted  the 
lid,  took  out  the  sacred  scroll,  carried  it  down 
to  the  chief  elder,  who  was  standing  in  the  pul- 
pit to  read.  An  exposition  or  practical  address 
folloAved  the  reading,  and  the  scroll  was  car- 
ried back  and  replaced  in  the  ark.  As  it  was 
borne  through  the  assembly,  all  followed  it 
with  their  eyes,  many  rushed  forward  to  touch 
and  to  press  the  sacred  writing  to  their  lips. 
Women  stretched  forward  their  hands  weeping 
and  the  whole  congregation  manifested  the 
deepest  emotion.  Prayer  followed  the  reading 
of  the  scriptures  and  the  address,  and  the  con- 
gregation responded  "Amen,"  to  the  petitions 
and  benedictions  of  the  elders. 

When  this  formal  service  was  completed, 
opportunity  was  given  to  any  in  the  synagogue 
to  speak.  At  the  time  when  Jesus  was  going 
to  and  fro  among  the  towns  and  cities  of  Gali- 
lee, it  was  a  question  constantly  discussed  in 
all  religious  assemblies,  "when  would  the  Mes- 


CAPERNAUM.  91 

siali  appear,  and  what  would  be  the  signs  uf 
his  coming?"  Jesus  availed  himself  of  this 
expectation  and  of  the  free  speech  accorded  to 
all  in  the  Sabbath  service,  to  preach  the  gos- 
pel of  the  kingdom  in  all  their  synagogues. 
With  this  object  in  view,  he  often  entered  the 
beautiful  marble  temple  which  the  Roman 
centurion  had  built  for  the  Jews  of  Caper- 
naum. 

On  one  occasion  when  Jesus  was  there,  the 
silence  and  decorum  of  the  sacred  place  were 
rudely  broken  by  the  startling  outcry  of  a 
wretched  creature  Avhom  the  demons  of  dark- 
ness had  subjected  to  their  cruel  power.  The 
holy  presence  of  the  divine  Healer  awakened 
the  most  passionate  and  contradictory  emotions 
in  the  mind  of  the  one  possessed.  The  mighty 
vv'oe  which  had  been  brought  into  his  soul  by 
the  power  of  Satan,  broke  forth  in  a  cry  which 
seemed  to  come  equally  from  the  man  himself, 
and  from  the  evil  one  that  tormented  him. 
There  still  remained  in  the  enslaved  and  dark- 
ened soul,  light  enough  to  disclose  his  own 
misery.  The  possessing  demon  felt  and  ac- 
knowledged the  presence  of  the  supreme  Lord. 


92  ^VALKS    AM)    HOMKS. 

And  yet  tlio  uiilin})|\v  innu  wauteJ  tlio  ]Hnvor 
to  make  an  oariiost  aiul  cousistont  a])peal  to 
Jesus  for  lielp.  ^Mlou  his  onibobK\l  will  strove 
to  oiler  the  prayer,  the  iiulwelling  Jemou  pos- 
sessed his  voiee  aiul  made  hiiu  utter  the  })eti- 
tiou  that  Jesus  Avould  "let  hiui  aloue."  He 
was  like  oue  iu  a  dreaui,  leeliug  hiuiself  to  he 
iuijxdled  towards  the  briuk  of  souie  awful  pre- 
oipiee,  or  about  to  he  toru  iu  pieees  by  wild 
beasts,  all  the  while  eouseious  that  it  is  a 
dreaui.  yet  wautiug  the  power  to  ery  out  or  to 
shake  oiX  the  spell  which  biuds  him.  The 
will  of  the  uiau  was  possessed  by  auother  aiul 
a  eruel  power,  aud  yet  he  had  freedoui  euough 
left  to  groau  beueath  the  weight  of  the  boudage 
which  was  upou  him,  aud  to  desire  deliverauce 
by  a  mightier  baud  thau  his  owu.  He  had 
iudeed  iirst  ottered  hiuiself  a  prey  to  the  pow- 
ers of  darkness  by  his  owu  voluntary  sin.  He 
had  opened  the  gate  through  which  the  enemy 
came  in  with  his  oavu  hand,  and  so  his  captiv- 
ity had  begun.  Aud  yet  he  was  not  fully  Avill- 
ing  to  give  up  the  palace  of  the  soul  to  the 
evil  possession.  And  his  yearning  for  redemp- 
tion, though  expressed   by  rude  outcries  aud 


CAPERNAUM.  U3 

contradictions,  brought  him  within  reach  of 
healing  power. 

The  calm  presence  of  Jesus  awoke  the  tem- 
pest of  fear  and  hope  and  renewed  torment  in 
his  soul,  just  because  he  had  not  yet  fully  con- 
sented to  be  at  peace  with  the  Satanic  tyranny 
which  had  crushed  his  manhood  and  bound 
debasing  fetters  upon  his  soul.  The  usurping 
demon  put  forth  all  his  might  to  retain  posses- 
sion of  the  man,  just  because  the  divine  De- 
liverer was  there,  and  nothing  better  suits  the 
malice  of  the  powers  of  darkness  than  to  hold 
their  victim  in  the  presence  of  the  Prince  of 
light.  The  wretched  creature  was  torn  and 
convulsed  by  the  terrible  struggle,  and  he  gave 
utterance  to  his  agony  in  groans  and  frantic 
outcries  before  all  the  assembly. 

And  how  shall  this  conflict  end?  Only  in 
one  way;  for  by  the  confession  of  the  demons 
themselves  "the  Holy  One  of  God"  was  there, 
and  the  mightiest  of  their  legions  must  obey  his 
word.  The  evil  spirit  could  only  rend  his  vic- 
tim with  one  last  and  terrible  torture  while 
leaving  him;  just  as  now,  Satan  is  most  active 
to  tempt  and  torment  the  souls  of  those  who 


94  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

are  renouncing  his  2^<^^^'t)i'  and  dominion  for- 
ever. 

The  time  of  our  Lord's  ministry  would  seem 
to  have  been  the  crisis  of  the  great  conflict  be- 
tween light  and  darkness  in  this  world.  The 
evil  powers  which  had  ruled  with  supreme  do- 
minion over  men  thus  far,  were  summoned  to 
meet  their  divine  Antagonist  with  all  their 
legions.  And  hence  the  demons  were  brought 
face  to  face  with  Jesus  in  the  sanctuary,  in 
private  homes  and  in  the  desert.  Their  num- 
bers were  counted  by  single  j^ossessions,  by 
sevens,  and  by  legions.  In  this  particular 
case,  the  defiant  power  followed  Jesus  into  the 
synagogue  on  the  Sabbath,  and  cried  out  with 
noisy  and  profane  vehemence  in  the  midst  of 
the  solemnities  of  divine  worship  and  instruc- 
tion. 

Jesus  silenced  and  cast  out  the  foul  spirit 
with  a  word.  The  soul  of  the  one  possessed, 
torn  and  tortured  by  one  final  paroxysm  of  the 
outgoing  demon,  was  at  last  calm  and  free,  in 
the  presence  of  Jesus.  The  assembly  in  the 
S3^nagogue,  rightly  counted  this  the  most  aston- 
ishing evidence,  that  Jesus  was  in  very  deed, 


CAPERNAUM.  95 

tlic  Holy  One  of  God.  They  had  never  before 
seen  or  heard  of  one,  who  eouhl  command  the 
unclean  spirits  with  such  authority,  that  they 
should  silently  and  immediately  obey  him.  By 
this  single  act,  Jesus  asserted  and  proclaimed 
his  own  complete  mastery  over  the  worst  and 
over  all  the  evils  that  have  ever  plagued  and 
tortured  the  human  race  in  all  ages. 

And  here  in  this  synagogue  of  Capernaum, 
on  a  quiet  Sabbath  morning,  in  the  fullness  of 
the  Syrian  spring,  the  power  of  the  prince  of 
darkness  is  for  the  first  time  crushed  and  put 
to  shame.  The  great  enemy  which  has  deceived 
the  nations  for  ages,  and  filled  the  earth  with 
sin  and  misery,  is  smitten  and  dismayed  by  a 
single  word  from  the  lips  of  the  Son  of  God. 
All  other  helps  and  healings,  which  men  need  for 
body  or  for  soul,  will  be  easily  secured,  when 
once  the  author  of  evil  is  overcome.  He  who 
gains  the  victory  over  the  greatest  foe,  may  well 
be  trusted  to  do  for  us  exceeding  abundantly 
above  all  that  we  can  ask  or  think.  So  the 
assembly  in  the  synagogue  of  Capernaum  un- 
derstood the  mighty  work  of  Jesus,  in  silencing 
nnd   dismissing  the  foul  spirit  that  disturbed 


96  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

the  morning  service.  For  no  sooner  had  the 
sun  set,  and  the  Sabbath  ended,  than  all  the  city 
were  gathered  together  at  the  door  of  the  house 
where  Jesus  was.  The  lame,  the  sick,  the  para- 
lytic, the  possessed,  were  all  there.  Leaning 
upon  the  arm  of  friends,  supported  by  crutches, 
carried  in  beds,  they  all  came,  with  the  full 
expectation  that  life  and  health  would  be  theirs 
again,  if  only  they  could  have  access  to  him, 
whose  single  word  had  silenced  and  cast  out 
the  foul  spirit  in  the  synagogue  that  Sabbath 
morning.  And  they  were  not  disappointed. 
Jesus  healed  them  all.  When  the  wretched 
and  suffering,  who  crowded  the  street  at  sunset, 
went  to  their  homes,  they  walked  without  help 
from  friends.  That  night  in  Capernaum,  sleep 
came  to  many  a  couch  where  quiet  rest  had 
long  been  a  stranger.  The  next  day,  there  was 
nothing  for  the  physician  to  do  in  that  city. 

And  a  deeper  peace,  a  more  profound  and 
blessed  rest,  would  come  to  the  hearts  of  mil- 
lions, if  only  they  could  be  persuaded  to  seek 
it  from  him,  whose  touch  was  life  and  health  to 
the  afflicted  in  the  streets  of  Capernaum.  He 
did  all  his  mighty  works  of  healing  upon  the 


CAPERNAUM.  97 

body,  tliat  he  might  prove  his  power  and  will- 
ingness to  do  a  greater  work  upon  the  stricken 
and  suifering  soul.  And  into  the  streets  of 
every  city,  into  every  house  where  the  story  of 
his  life  is  read,  he  comes  to  do  that  greater 
work  for  all  who  need. 

On  another  Sabbath  morning,  the  presence 
of  Jesus  excited  extraordinary  interest  in  the 
synagogue  of  Capernaum.  The  night  previous 
had  been  one  of  tempest  and  darkness  on  the 
lake.  The  storm  raged  with  great  violence 
from  sunset  to  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  then  subsided  with  strange  suddenness 
into  a  perfect  calm,  as  the  flame  of  a  candle  is 
blown  out  with  a  single  breath.  The  waves, 
which  ordinarily  required  many  hours  to  be- 
come composed,  after  such  agitation,  ceased  in 
the  midst  of  their  wildest  commotion.  One 
moment  the  lake  was  lifting  itself  up  with  con- 
vulsive billbws,  and  groaning  beneath  the 
scourge  of  the  winds ;  the  next,  it  was  smooth 
as  a  sea  of  glass. 

The  Sabbath  morning  was  calm  and  bright, 
as  if  no  tempest  had  ever  shaken  the  earth  or 
the  sea.     The  assembly  gathered   in   greater 


98  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

numbers  than  usual,  and  as  they  ascended  the 
marble  steps,  and  crossed  the  broad  portico, 
there  were  signs  of  excitement  and  curiosity 
upon  every  face.  The  sudden  cessation  of  the 
storm,  the  news  that  Jesus  was  already  in  the 
synagogue,  when  it  was  generally  understood 
that  the  night  left  him  on  the  opposite  shore, 
the  still  stranger  story  told  by  some  who  came 
around  on  foot  from  Bethsaida  before  the  Sab- 
bath evening  began,  the  startling  rumor  that  the 
mass  of  the  people  were  about  to  rise  and  set 
up  Jesus  for  their  king, — all  this  was  quite 
enough  to  quicken  the  quiet  step,  and  disturb 
the  grave  deportment,  with  which  the  assembly 
usually  gathered  for  morning  worship  in  the 
synagogue. 

And  besides  the  wonder  and  excitement 
only  increased,  when  they  learned  more  fully 
what  had  taken  place  the  day  before  on  the 
other  side,  and  how  the  night  had  been  spent 
by  some  on  the  lake.  It  was  generally  under- 
stood in  Capernaum  the  day  before,  that  Jesus 
had  gone  over  with  his  disciples  to  the  desert 
country  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake.  As 
the  boat  was  seen  to  put  off  in  that  direction, 


CAPERNAUM.  99 

and  many  knew  that  Jesus  was  on  board,  the 
people  gathered  in  great  numbers  and  ran 
afoot  along  the  western  shore  and  across  the 
bridge  of  the  Jordan  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
lake,  and  some  were  already  waiting  for  him 
on  the  other  side,  when  he  came  to  the  land. 
Not  to  be  wholly  deprived  of  the  object  for 
which  he  had  withdrawn  from  Capernaum,  he 
endeavored  to  steal  away  from  the  crowd,  and 
secure  a  little  retirement  with  his  disciples. 

But  he  was  moved  with  compassion  for  the 
multitude,  as  they  continued  to  gather,  on  foot 
and  in  boats  from  all  the  neighboring  towns, 
and  they  seemed  to  him  "  as  sheep  having  no 
shepherd."  The  crowd  of  people  was  greatly 
increased  by  additions  from  the  annual  caravan 
of  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  Jerusalem,  to  at- 
tend the  great  national  feast  of  the  passover. 

Jesus  came  forth  from  his  retreat,  resolved 
to  teach  and  to  heal  the  sick,  while  the  day 
lasted,  and  then  to  seek  the  retirement  for 
which  he  longed,  in  the  solitude  and  darkness 
of  the  night,  on  the  mountains.  Taking  his 
seat  upon  the  grassy  hill-side,  where  he  could 
be  seen  and  heard  by  the  vast  assemblage,  he 


100 


WALKS   AND    HOMES. 


continued  to  speak  unto  them,  and  to  heal  the 
sick  that  were  brought  to  him,  until  the  sun 
began  to  sink  behind  the  hills  of  Gralilee.    And 


,^*^ 
=&^^ 


then  to  save  the  thousands  of  weary,  hungry, 
homeless  people  from  perishing  with  faintness 
and  fatigue,  as  they  sought  shelter  for  the  night, 
Jesus  fed  all  in  the  desert,  with  such  simple 


CAPERNAUM.  101 

food  as  they  were  accustomed  to,  and  what 
remained  of  the  feast,  when  all  were  filled,  was 
more  than  the  five  loaves  with  which  they 
began. 

The  astonished  multitude  cried,  that  he  who 
could  do  such  wonderful  works,  must  indeed  be 
the  Messiah,  and  they  were  ready  to  seize  on 
him  by  force,  and  carry  him  back  in  triumph 
to  Capernaum  for  their  king,  when  suddenly 
he  disappeared  from  among  them,  and  could 
no  where  be  found. 

Left  to  themselves,  they  were  obliged  to 
hurry  back  the  way  they  came.  For  the  Sab- 
bath would  begin  at  sunset,  and  the  strictness 
with  which  they  interpreted  the  law  would 
forbid  them  to  travel  the  distance  of  a  mile, 
even  for  food  or  shelter,  on  the  holy  day.  If 
the  day  closed  upon  them  in  that  desert  place, 
they  would  have  to  remain  there  till  the  next 
sunset,  or  else,  in  their  estimate,  break  the 
commandment  by  traveling  on  the  Sabbath. 
Gerasa,  Bethsaida,  Chorazin,  Capernaum,  Mag- 
dala,  Tiberias,  could  all  be  reached  in  time  by 
land  or  water,  by  those  who  started  at  the  hour 
of  the  evenins:  sacrifice.     So  all  left  the  scene 


102  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

of  the  mighty  miracle;  before  sunset,  the  disci- 
j)les  themselves  being  constrained  by  Jesus  to 
take  to  their  boat  and  leave  him  in  the  desert 
place  alone. 

All  this  was  known  to  the  assembl}",  gather- 
ing in  the  s^magogue  of  Capernaum  the  next 
morning.  But  many  who  came  around  to  the 
city  by  land  the  previous  evening,  were  sur- 
prised to  find  Jesus  himself  at  his  usual  place 
among  the  worshippers.  Then  the  disciples 
increased  their  surprise  by  telling  the  story  of 
the  night  on  the  lake ;  the  fury  of  the  storm ; 
the  nine  hours  of  hard  rowing  against  the 
w^ind;  the  appearance  of  Jesus  walking  upon 
the  sea;  the  cry  of  alarm,  and  then  the  impul- 
sive attempt  of  Peter  to  go  out  to  meet  him  on 
the  water;  the  rescue  of  the  sinking  disciple; 
the  hushing  of  the  storm,  and  the  subsidence 
of  the  waves,  the  moment  that  Jesus  came  on 
board ;  the  safe  return  of  all  to  the  Gennesaret 
shore,  and  the  purj)ose  already  formed  to  send 
messengers,  as  soon  as  the  Sabbath  sun  was 
set,  all  over  Galilee  to  bring  in  the  sick  and 
afflicted  to  be  healed. 

All  this  was  cpiite  enough  to  fill  tlie  minds 


CAPEENAUM.  103 

of  the  assembly  in  the  synagogue  with  wonder 
and  curiosity  to  know  the  meaning  of  what 
they  had  heard.  They  coukl  scarcely  wait 
for  the  ordinary  service  to  close  before  they 
gathered  about  Jesus,  and  began  to  question 
him  with  great  eagerness  and  severity. 

"How  came  he  there  so  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  evening  left  him  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake?  Could  he  repeat  the  miracle 
of  the  previous  day,  and  support  all  his  follow- 
ers, as  the  fathers  were  fed  with  bread  from 
heaven  in  the  wilderness?  Had  he  in  very 
deed  Avalked  upon  the  sea  and  hushed  the 
storm?  And  could  he  give  health,  and  strength, 
and  riches,  and  long  life  to  all  who  would  set 
him  up  for  a  prince  in  the  land?  What  new 
and  great  sign  could  he  show  them  of  his  au- 
thority to  restore  the  nation  and  redeem 
Israel?" 

To  all  such  questions,  Jesus  only  replied  by 
exposing  their  worldly  and  selfish  motives  in 
seeking  him,  and  by  declaring  that  he  himself 
was  the  bread  of  life.  The  manna  of  Moses 
and  the  bread  of  yesterday's  miracle,  could 
only  appease  hunger  and  -sustain  life  for  a  time. 


104  WALKS   AND   HOMES. 

Believing  in  him,  they  should  never  die.  His 
own  flesh  and  blood  must  be  given  in  sacrifice 
for  the  world,  and  they  must  live  by  faith  in 
that  sacrifice,  or  there  could  be  no  life  in  them. 
He  had  indeed  healed  the  sick,  and  fed  the 
hungry,  and  raised  the  dead.  He  had  hushed 
the  winds,  and  walked  upon  the  waves.  But 
he  had  not  come  to  change  the  order  of  nature, 
to  bestow  health  without  sickness,  or  harvests 
without  labor.  It  was  not  his  great  work  to 
bring  in  a  material  millennium  of  national  ag- 
grandizement and  earthly  prosperity.  It  was 
his  great  office  to  give  eternal  life,  and  possess- 
ing that,  they  need  give  themselves  little  anxiety 
about  things  that  perish. 

The  gross  minds  and  dark  hearts  of  the 
Galileans  could  make  little  of  such  sayings, 
and  that  single  discourse  of  Jesus  in  the  syna- 
gogue, dissipated  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
multitude  to  array  themselves  under  such  a 
leader.  If  their  grand  distinction  as  his  fol- 
lowers must  be  a  spiritual  and  a  holy  life, 
they  would  rather  look  for  another  Messiah. 

And  alas !  for  the  scattered  tribes  of  Israel, 
that,  to  this  day,  they  should  look  only  for  a 


CAPERNAUM.  105 

Deliverer,  who  shall  give  the  meat  that  perish- 
eth,  and  not  that  which  enduneth  unto  eternal 
life.  And  alas !  for  the  millions  of  every  race 
lost  in  sin  and  misery,  that  they  too  should  be 
ready  to  compass  sea  and  land  for  some  trifling 
earthly  good,  and  yet  turn  away  from  Him 
who  alone  has  the  words  of  eternal  life.  Like 
blinded  Israel,  the  world  still  waits  for  a  Mes- 
siah, who  shall  give  kingdoms  and  crowns, 
riches  and  glory,  life  and  happiness  on  the 
earth.  Whoever  promises  to  relieve  bodily 
suffering,  to  open  new  sources  of  wealth,  to 
multiply  the  means  of  present  enjoyment  with- 
out imposing  the  task  of  personal  reformation, 
will  have  hearers  and  followers  without  num- 
ber. But  he  who  offers  infinite  riches,  eternal 
blessedness  as  the  consequence  and  the  reward 
of  a  holy  life,  a  life  of  duty,  of  benevolence 
and  self-denial,  may  have  to  mourn  that  his 
most  earnest  pleading  and  his  most  faithful 
instruction  seem  to  others  like  an  idle  tale. 

Science  labors  to  explain  all  the  mysteries  of 
nature,  of  providence  and  of  man's  immortal 
being  without  one  word  of  homage  to  Christ, 
without  any  reference  to  the  need  or  the  re- 


106  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

ality  of  redemption.  The  highest  conceptions 
of  art,  the  most  delicate  refinements  of  taste, 
often  spring  from  utterly  sensual  and  earthly 
minds.  Literature  is  ever  adding  to  its  al- 
ready exhaustless  resources  of  wit  and  argu- 
ment and  passion  and  invention,  all  fitted  and 
designed  to  persuade  men  to  live  for  this  world 
alone. 

And  so  too  the  necessities  of  labor,  the 
seductions  of  pleasure,  the  responsibilities  of 
public  life,  the  pressure  of  business,  the  de- 
mands of  society  are  all  assigned  as  helps  or 
excuses  or  temptations,  by  reason  of  which 
men  easily  forget  the  infinite  necessity  of  the 
soul,  the  infinite  inheritance  of  glory  and 
immortality.  Christ  alone  has  the  words  of 
eternal  life.  The  dark  problems  of  duty  and 
of  destiny  become  clear  only  when  studied  in 
the  light  which  shines  from  the  cross.  The  life 
of  the  poorest  and  lowliest  man  on  earth 
becomes  great  and  infinitely  precious  to  him 
when  once  he  learns  to  receive  and  improve  it 
as  a  redeemed  and  everlasting  possession  for 
the  Son  of  God. 


CAPERNAUM. 


107 


3.    THE   MOUNT. 

Let  US  now  leave  the  narrow  streets  and  the 
stone  synagogue,  the  white  beach  and  the  fish- 
ing boats  of  Capernaum,  and  fall  into  one  of 


LAKE  OF  GALILEE. 


the  many  dark  lines  of  early  travelers,  who 
are  climbing  the  winding  foot-paths  toward  the 
mount  of  the  Beatitudes  just  above  the  city. 
Having  accomplished  the  ascent,  and  taken 
our  seat  with  the  multitude  upon  the  grassy 
slope  of  the  mount,  let  us  listen  to  the  gracious 


108  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

words  of  the  divine  Teacher,  and  observe  what 
allusions  he  makes  to  objects  around  him. 

It  is  the  morning  hour.  Jesus  had  spent 
the  night  in  solitude  on  the  mountain.  His 
withdrawal  in  that  direction  had  been  observed 
at  evening,  and  the  multitude  have  come  up 
from  the  city  and  the  villages  by  the  lake-side 
in  search  of  him  at  this  early  hour.  Seeing 
them  approach  in  great  numbers,  he  comes 
part-way  down  the  height  to  a  level  place  to 
meet  them.  The  sun  is  climbing  the  eastern 
heavens,  and  the  surface  of  the  lake  shines  like 
a  sea  of  fire  between  the  dark  walls  of  its  en- 
compassing shores.  Far  away  to  the  north,  the 
snow}^  height  of  Hermon  rises  like  a  cloud  of 
incense  offered  by  the  eternal  hills  in  morning 
w^orship  to  the  King  of  heaven.  The  sur- 
rounding heights  and  valleys,  with  all  their 
varied  outlines  of  barren  cliffs,  and  green  ter- 
races, and  wild  ravines,  stand  forth  to  view 
with  startling  clearness  in  the  blaze  of  light. 
The  suddenness  with  which  the  dawn  gives 
place  to  the  day  and  wakes  the  sleeping  w^orld, 
makes  it  seem  as  if  the  risen  sun  were  the  infi- 
nite source  of  life  and  blessing  to  all  creatures 


CAPERNAUM.  109 

that  live.  The  flowers  put  on  a  new  beauty, 
the  foliage  wears  a  deeper  green,  the  birds  sing 
with  a  chorus  of  gladness,  the  flocks  go  forth 
with  joy  to  their  mountain  pasturage  at  the  re- 
turn of  the  light. 

Jesus,  first  addressing  the  little  company  of 
his  disciples,  who  are  to  preach  his  gospel  to 
all  nations,  says,  "Ye  are  the  light  of  the 
world."  Great  as  is  the  change  when  the  shades 
of  night  disappear,  and  the  morning  pours  its 
glories  on  the  hills  of  Galilee,  it  shall  be  a 
greater  transformation  when  the  night  of  igno- 
rance and  superstition  passes  away,  and  the 
nations  wake  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of 
God.  The  sun  goes  forth  in  the  heavens  to  fill 
the  world  with  light.  In  like  manner  the  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus  shall  go  into  all  the  dark  places 
of  the  earth  and  make  the  truth  shine  around 
their  path  until  the  waste  blooms  with  the 
beauty  of  paradise  restored. 

The  surrounding  hills  are  crowned  with  vil- 
lages, whose  white  houses  gleam  with  dazzling 
brightness  in  the  morning  sun.  'No  true  pic- 
ture of  the  landscape  would  fail  to  make  these 
shining  mountain  cities  most  conspicuous  and 

10 


110  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

attractive  to  every  eye.  And  Jesus  takes  up 
his  parable  from  them,  and  says,  "  A  city  set 
on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid."  The  life  and  homes 
and  instructions  of  those  that  follow  him 
shall  be  the  light  and  landmarks  of  all  future 
history  until  the  Lord's  house  is  exalted 
among  the  hills,  and  all  nations  flow  unto  it. 

Winding  through  the  green  fields,  and 
climbing  up  the  terraced  hill- sides  may  be 
seen  narrow  paths,  white  and  shining  with  the 
earthy  residuum  of  salt  which  has  lost  its 
savor,  and  has  been  cast  forth  upon  the  barren 
walk  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  man.  In  the 
utter  rejection  of  the  worthless  substance, 
Jesus  shows  the  doom  of  those  who  prove 
false  to  their  high  commission,  to  keep  his 
truth  and  to  save  the  perishing. 

The  distant  hills  of  Bashan  are  in  sight  be- 
yond the  lake.  They  have  been  the  haunt  of 
robbers  and  outlaws  for  ages.  The  listening 
multitudes  have  heard  many  tales  of  murder 
and  crime  committed  by  the  dwellers  in  that 
wild  region,  and  they  suppose  that  to  such 
men,  no  pity  can  be  due  in  this  world,  and 
nothing  can  be  in  reserve  for  them,  but  the 


CAPERNAUM.  Ill 

fires  of  gehenna,  in  the  world  to  come.  Rude, 
violent  and  denunciatory  in  speech,  and  accus- 
tomed to  cursing  even  when  talking  with 
friends,  yet  commending  themselves  for  their 
freedom  from  great  crimes  of  violence,  they 
shudder  and  look  at  each  other  with  wonder 
when  they  hear  the  words  of  Jesus,  "Whoso- 
ever shall  say,  thou  fool,  shall  be  in  danger  of 
the  gehenna  fire." 

Pleasure  boats  are  darting  out  from  Tiberias 
and  Magdala  for  a  morning  sail  on  the  lake; 
and  it  is  usual  for  the  ofiicers  of  Herod's  gov- 
ernment and  the  Roman  arm}^,  to  be  there  with 
their  guilty  paramours,  leading  lives  of  lust 
and  dissipation,  and  the  crowds  from  the  streets 
of  Capernaum  are  waiting  to  hear  the  holy 
Prophet  of  T*^azareth  pour  out  his  denuncia- 
tions upon  these  foreigners  and  imitators  of 
foreign  manners,  who  are  accounted  sinners 
above  all  them  that  dwell  in  Galilee.  But 
they  blush  and  hang  their  heads  for  shame 
when  they  hear  him  declare  that  the  guilt  of 
the  outward  life  is  in  the  secret  thought  of  the 
heart.  They  are  constrained  to  confess  that  in 
themselves  they  may  secretly  cherish  the  fruit- 


112  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

ful  source  of  all  that  appears  so  shameless  and 
revolting  in  the  greatest  criminals. 

AVhile  he  is  sj)eaking,  trumpets  sound  the 
reveille  for  the  Roman  troops  garrisoned  in  the 
cities  on  the  lake  shore.  The  long-drawn  note 
rings  out  upon  the  clear  silent  air,  and  dies 
away  in  prolonged  echoes  among  the  hills.  At 
the  signal,  soldiers  can  be  seen  coming  forth 
for  their  morning  parade  upon  the  narroAV 
plain  below.  As  they  take  their  places  in  the 
ranks  they  bow  in  military  homage  to  the 
golden  eagle,  which  the  Jews  look  upon  as  the 
hated  and  idolatrous  sign  of  subjection  to  a 
foreign  power.  The  turbulent  Galileans  can 
never  see  that  standard  lifted  up  with  the  cus- 
tomary salutation  of  trumjDets  and  voices, 
without  feelings  of  bitterest  hatred  and  re- 
venge. And  now  the  listening  throng  are  im- 
patient to  hear  what  words  of  wrath  the  war 
note  of  the  heathen  power  will  bring  forth 
from  the  lips  of  this  promised  Deliverer  of 
Israel.  But  what  does  he  say  to  inflame  the 
passions  of  his  hearers  against  the  idolatrous 
and  oppressive  conquerors?  "I  say  unto  you 
love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you, 


CAPERNAUM.  113 

do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  that  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you." 

A  Roman  courier,  with  half  a  dozen  sol- 
diers, comes  up  the  high  bank  from  the  lake, 
making  his  way  across  the  hills  westward,  as  a 
bearer  of  despatches  to  Sephoris,  the  capital  of 
Galilee,  and  thence  to  Rome.  As  he  passes  in 
sight  of  the  great  assembly,  he  falls  in  with 
peasants  who  are  going  out,  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, to  work  in  their  fields  and  vineyards. 
The  soldiers  compel  the  poor  laborers  to  go 
along  with  them  and  carry  their  arms  and 
baggage  up  the  steep  ascent  of  the  mountain 
road.  It  is  a  common  act  of  oppression,  and 
it  is  often  accompanied  with  brutal  provoca- 
tions and  blows.  But  while  the  multitudes  are 
looking  on  with  indignation,  and  a  burning  de- 
sire to  revenge  the  wrong,  the  voice  of  the 
divine  Teacher  again  arrests  their  attention. 
"I  say  unto  you  that  ye  resist  not  evil,  but 
whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  the  right  cheek, 
turn  to  him  the  other  also,  and  whosoever  shall 
compel  thee  to  go  a  mile,  go  with  him  twain." 

It  is  now  midsummer,  and  the  work  of  sow- 

10  * 


114  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

ing  and  reaj^ing  is  going  on  at  the  same  time, 
in  the  fertile  plain  of  Grennesaret,  where  the 
fields  are  green  and  flowers  blossom  every 
month  of  the  year.  The  tillers  of  the  soil  are 
busily  gathering  what  has  already  grown,  and 
anxiously  watching  that  which  is  still  imma- 
ture, hoping  and  fearing,  as  husbandmen  al- 
ways do.  Fishermen  who  draw  their  living 
from  the  lake,  are  watching  the  signs  of  wind 
and  rain,  and  waiting  for  favorable  nights  to 
fill  their  nets.  And  so,  in  one  direction  and 
another,  on  the  land  and  the  lake,  in  the  towns 
and  the  fields,  the  shepherd  and  the  vintager, 
the  merchant  and  the  artisan,  are  anxiously 
pursuing  their  daily  tasks,  and  dreading  the 
consequences,  should  their  labors  prove  unsuc- 
cessful. 

At  the  same  time,  flocks  of  birds,  sporting 
on  the  wing  and  in  the  water,  make  the  morn- 
ing air  musical  with  their  happy  voices,  and 
beat  the  waves  into  foam  with  their  fluttering 
wings.  The  joyous  creatures  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  multitudes  only  to  awaken  the  fear 
that  the  harvest  will  be  devoured  in  the  fields, 
and  the  fish  on  the  shore  will  be  frightened 


CAPERNAUM.  llo 

beyond  the  reach  of  their  nets.  And  then  the 
calm  voice  of  Jesus  takes  up  the  fear  and  leads 
it  on  to  faith, — "AVhy  take  ye  thought,  why 
are  ye  anxious  about  food,  or  raiment,  or  life  ? 
Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air.  For  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns ; 
yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are 
ye  not  much  better  than  they?" 

The  listening  multitude  are  mostly  poor. 
They  have  scarce  clothing  enough  for  comfort 
or  decency,  and  they  wear  the  same  coarse 
garment  through  all  the  year.  A  rough  man- 
tle of  camel's  hair  thrown  across  the  shoulders 
and  bound  around  the  body  with  a  leathern 
girdle  is  all  that  peasants  and  fishermen  can 
boast  for  ornament  or  for  use.  In  summer 
and  in  winter,  in  the  houses  and  in  the  fields, 
by  night  and  by  day,  they  wrap  themselves  in 
the  same  soiled  and  shaggy  covering.  They 
have  sat  down,  by  hundreds  and  by  thousands, 
on  the  grassy  hill-sides  to  listen,  desiring 
nothing  so  much  as  that  the  miraculous  power 
of  the  new  Prophet  will  be  put  forth  in  cloth- 
ing them  like  princes,  and  enriching  them 
with   the   spoil   of  their   heathen    conquerors. 


116  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

The  dark  throng  contrasts  strangely  with  the 
bright  hues  of  flowers  that  bloom  everywhere 
in  sight,  from  the  lake-side,  through  the  green 
valleys  and  oak  woods,  upward  to  the  base  of 
Tabor  and  over  the  hills  towards  JN'azareth. 
And  again  the  voice  of  the  wondrous  speaker 
foreruns  the  wish  of  all  who  hear,  "  And  why 
take  ve  thouo-ht  for  raiment?  Consider  the 
lilies  of  the  field  how^  they  groAv ;  they  toil 
not,  neither  do  they  spin :  and  yet  I  say  unto 
you  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these." 

The  whole  region  in  which  Jesus  is  teaching- 
has  Jbeen  many  times  overrun  by  devastating 
armies.  The  Babylonian,  the  Persian,  the 
Syrian,  the  Greek  and  the  Roman,  have  all 
passed  that  way,  foraging  in  the  fields  and  lay- 
ing heavy  exactions  upon  the  tow^ns.  The 
open  country  has  always  been  infested  by  wild 
beasts  and  robbers.  For  mutual  safety  the 
people  are  obliged  to  live  in  villages,  strong- 
holds and  walled  cities,  the  gates  of  which  are 
guarded  by  day  and  shut  by  night.  In  many 
directions  from  the  mount  of  the  Beatitudes,  the 
people  can  see  the  way  of  approach  to  the  hill 


CAPERNAUM.  117 

towns,  climbing  up  the  steep,  winding  along 
the  precipice,  terminating  at  the  guarded  gate. 
Whoever  would  rest  in  peace,  must  be  found 
within  the  walls  when  the  sun  goes  down. 
The  people  are  weary  of  this  continual  watch- 
ing against  danger.  They  long  for  the  time 
when  all  cities  can  keep  open  and  unguarded 
gates,  day  and  night,  and  the  tired  wayfarer 
can  find  admission  without  asking  and  at  any 
hour  ;  and  the  peasant  can  repose  in  safety 
under  his  own  vine  and  fig-tree  in  the  field, 
without  seeking  the  protection  of  the  town  at 
all.  And  from  this  universal  desire  to  be 
released  from  the  necessity  of  efi'ort  and 
watching,  Jesus  takes  up  his  parable  and 
declares  that  entrance  to  the  city  that  hath 
everlasting  foundations,  must  be  sought  in 
time  and  with  agonizing  eff*ort,  or  it  will  never 
be  found.  "  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate,  for  many,  I  say  unto  you,  will  seek  to 
enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able  when  once  the 
Master  hath  shut  to  the  door." 

The  multitude,  gathered  upon  the  mountain- 
side above  Capernaum,  to  hear  the  words  of 
Jesus  had  come  from  Galilee  and  from  Decapo- 


118  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

lis,  and  from  Jerusalem,  and  from  Judaea,  and 
from  beyond  Jordan.  Some  of  them  had  lived  in 
reed  and  mud-built  hovels  which  a  gust  of  wind 
would  blow  away  or  a  dash  of  rain  would  level 
with  the  earth.  Some  had  lived  in  houses  the 
foundations  of  which  rested  upon  a  rock,  and 
the  walls  of  which  had  been  standing  for  more 
than  a  thousand  years  and  are  standing  to  this 
day.  Some  lived  in  narrow  valleys,  the  bed 
of  which  was  sometimes  dry  and  sometimes 
filled  with  a  rushing  and  roaring  torrent,  that 
swept  everything  but  the  solid  rock  before  it. 
Across  the  lake  could  be  seen  wild  ravines  and 
gorges,  down  Avliich  the  cold  winds  of  Hermon 
and  Bashan  swept  with  a  fury  that  prostrated 
everything  in  its  way,  and  ploughed  up  the  sea 
into  a  phrensy  of  foam.  Many  had  looked 
forth  from  their  safe  habitations  on  the  high 
places  of  the  rock,  while  the  swollen  streams 
rushed  below,  and  descending  torrents  of  rain 
filled  all  the  air.  Many  had  seen  the  place 
wdiere  the  indolent  and  thoughtless  man  had 
built  his  house,  and  lived  for  a  few  seasons  upon 
the  pleasant  and  more  accessible  plain,  and  then 
at  last,  when  the  winter  storms  broke  with  un- 


CAPERNAUM.  119 

usual  violence  upon  the  hills,  was  himself  swept 
away  by  the  swollen  torrent  with  the  ruin  of 
his  own  dwelling. 

Surely  such  an  audience  would  feel  the  force 
of  the  warning  in  the  promise  with  which 
Jesus  concludes  his  sermon  on  the  mount, 
"  Whoso  heareth  and  doeth  these  sayings  of 
mine,  shall  be  like  the  wise,  who  build  on  the 
rock.  And  whoso  heareth  these  sayings  of 
mine  and  doeth  them  not  shall  be  like  the  fool- 
ish, who  build  on  the  sand." 

For  eighteen  hundred  years,  faith  has  kept 
the  sayings  of  Jesus,  and  built  upon  himself  as 
the  living  Rock.  The  storms  of  persecution 
and  the  floods  of  sorrow,  and  the  strong  winds 
of  calamity,  have  blown  and  beaten  upon  that 
structure,  but  it  still  stands,  for  it  is  founded 
upon  the  eternal  Rock.  For  eighteen  hundred 
years,  unbelief  has  been  building  upon  the 
shifting  sands  of  human  opinion,  and  worldly 
interest,  and  proud  speculation,  and  nothing- 
built  upon  that  foundation  has  been  able  to 
stand.  Amid  all  the  tempests  that  have  swept 
the  earth,  the  firm  house,  the  impregnable 
fortress,  the  holy  temple  of  our  Christian  faith, 


120  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

has  stood  secure  upon  its  high  and  eternal 
Rock.  Though  veiled  at  times  in  clouds,  it  has 
come  forth  brighter  from  the  darkness  of  every 
storm.  The  floods  which  have  carried  away 
its  outer  defenses  of  human  forms,  have  only 
shown  more  clearly  the  firmness  of  its  true 
foundation.  And  this  stronghold  of  faith, 
which  rests  upon  Christ,  as  the  living  and 
eternal  Rock,  shall  remain  secure,  offering  rest 
to  the  weary,  and  a  hiding-place  to  the  perish- 
ing, till  the  last  tempest  breaks. 


BETHESDA 


No~cV  thci'c  is  at  Jerusalem  a  pool  called  Bcthcsda^  and  a  cer- 
tain mail  was  there,  which  had  a?i  infirmity  thirty  and  eight 
years.  When  Jesus  saw  him  lie.  and  kjiew  that  he  had  been  7ioxu 
a  long  tijue  in  that  case,  he  saith  unto  him,  Wilt  thou  be  made 
xvhole  f — ^JoHN  V.  2,  5,  6. 


IV. 

BETHESDA. 


ETHESDA,  house  of  mercy,  a  name  of 
promise,  and  a  promise  wondrously 
fulfilled  on  the  day  when  Jesus  came 
there  with  His  power  to  heal,  and  His  mercy 
to  forgive. 

His  Gospel  makes  the  world  a  house  of 
mercy  to  all  that  hear  the  joyful  sound.  We 
boast  of  justice  in  our  dealings  with  our  fellow- 
men;  but  there  is  nothing  of  which  we  have 
so  much  reason  to  be  afraid,  as  that  God  shall 
treat  us  as  we  deserve.  Justice  alone,  untem- 
pered  with  mercy,  would  make  the  world  a 
prison-house  for  the  guilty.  It  would  thunder 
from  the  heavens  with  voices  of  vengeance.  It 
would  flame  from  the  earth  with  fires  of  wrath. 
It  would  poison  the  air  with  pestilence.  It 
would  make  every  human  habitation  a  house 
of  mourning.     It  would  send  the  thrill  of  pain 

123 


124  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

through  every  fibre  of  the  human  frame.  It 
woukl  answer  every  desire  of  the  heart  with 
disappointment.  It  woukl  make  life  a  burden, 
and  death  the  beginning  of  endless  despair. 
Such  Avould  be  the  consequence  to  us  all,  were 
God  to  answer  the  prayer  of  the  proud  heart 
— "Give  me  only  that  which  is  my  own.  Let 
the  justice  of  my  claim  be  the  measure  of  thy 
bounty." 

But  Jesus  the  Redeemer  comes  into  a  world 
which  sin  has  made  one  great  lazar-house  of 
diseased  and  suifering  humanity,  and  His  pres- 
ence makes  it  a  house  of  mercy  to  millions. 
Mercy  shines  in  the  morning  light,  and  mercy 
gilds  tlie  setting  day.  Mercy  sings  in  the 
laughing  stream,  and  shouts  in  the  darkening 
storm.  ]Mercy  tempers  the  summer's  heat  and 
the  winter's  cold;  revives  the  parched  earth 
with  the  blessed  rain;  clothes  the  landscape 
with  beauty,  and  crowns  the  year  with  good- 
ness. Mercy  flies  on  the  wings  of  angels  to 
the  support  of  the  feeble ;  to  the  defense  of  the 
j)oor;  to  the  pardon  of  the  guilty.  Mercy 
broods  with  bleeding  heart  over  the  bloody 
field  where  armies  meet  in  mortal  strife,  and 


BETHESDA.  125 

watches  amid  scenes  of  horror  and  agony  when 
the  glory  and  the  magniticence  of  battle  have 
rolled  away.  Mercy  brings  the  message  of 
hope  to  the  despairing,  of  joy  to  the  sorrowing, 
of  rest  to  the  weary,  and  of  life  to  the  dead. 
Mercy  removes  the  sting  of  the  last  bitter 
hour,  and  pours  the  glory  of  Paradise  upon 
the  vision  that  is  dim  with  the  shadows  of 
death.  Mercy  makes  a  house  of  God  in  every 
place  where  the  penitent  bow  in  prayer.  Mercy 
gives  immortal  life  to  all  who  look  to  Jesus  to 
be  "made  whole." 

What  a  pitiable  scene  is  presented  by  this 
house  of  mercy  at  Jerusalem,  named  Be- 
thesda !  The  marble  floors  of  its  five  colon- 
nades are  covered  with  a  miserable  multitude, 
wdiose  silent  aspect  is  a  cry  of  woe,  and  whose 
bare  presence  in  such  a  place  is  a  confession  of 
affliction  and  infirmity.  The  sick,  the  feeble, 
the  blind,  are  all  here  for  the  same  purpose, 
and  hoping  to  receive  help  from  the  same 
source. 

Here,  two  faithful  sons  have  brought  their 
poor  paralyzed  old  father,  and  set  him  down 
with  his  feet  in  the  edge  of  the  pool,  and  they 


126  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

are  watching  eagerly  at  his  side,  ready  to  take 
him  up  and  rush  in  at  the  first  movement  of 
the  healing  wave.  Close  by  their  side  sits  a 
mother,  with  anxiety  and  sorrow  written  in 
every  line  of  her  face,  as  she  looks  tenderly 
and  caressingly  upon  the  paler  face  of  her  in- 
fant child;  and  she  is  there  hoping  to  secure 
the  baptism  of  the  agitated  waters  in  behalf 
of  her  poor  babe,  that  she  may  not  be  left  to 
bear  the  burden  and  the  woe  of  life's  weary 
journey  alone.  There  a  young  wife,  with  the 
hectic  glow  of  consumption  burning  upon  her 
wasted  cheek,  leans,  panting  for  breath,  upon 
her  husband's  strong  arm,  feeling  that  but  for 
one  earthly  tie,  it  were  better  for  her  if  the 
bitterness  of  death  were  already  past.  Here 
an  aged  mother  is  trying  to  persuade  her  affec- 
tionate daughter  to  lead  her  home,  and  let  her 
lie  down  upon  her  bed  and  die  in  ]Deace  with- 
out seeking  to  prolong  a  life  that  has  already 
had  too  many  sorrows. 

Here  the  blind  have  been  led  by  friendly 
hands,  and  seated  on  the  margin  of  the  pool, 
with  their  sightless  eye-balls  seeking  in  vain 
for  light  in   the  noon-tide  blaze  of  the  sun. 


BETHESDA.  127 

Here  the  wretclied  paralytic  lies  helpless,  with 
the  half  of  himself  already  dead,  and  wishing 
that  the  other  half  would  die  too,  or  that  both 
might  live  together.  Here  are  some  so  with- 
ered, and-  old,  and  poor,  that  one  would  wonder 
what  life  could  be  worth  to  them,  unless  indeed 
the  healing  waters  can  give  them  back  the  days 
of  their  youth. 

Some  are  attended  by  many  friends,  who 
cheer  them  with  w^ords  of  hope,  and  relieve 
their  sufferings  with  every  possible  attention. 
Some  have  exhausted  their  utmost  strength  in 
dragging  themselves  to  the  house  of  mercy 
alone.  Some  are  uttering  cries  of  impatience 
and  pain ;  some  are  sinking  and  fainting  with 
exhaustion ;  some  are  waiting  in  calm  and 
trustful  silence  for  the  rippling  of  the  water 
when  it  shall  be  swept  by  the  viewless  angel's 
wing.  The  long  colonnade  is  crowded  through 
its  whole  extent,  and  the  wants  and  woes  of 
the  human  race  are  represented  by  the  multi- 
tude drawn  together  by  the  mysterious  power 
of  that  healing  fountain. 

Among  the  friends  of  the  afflicted  and  the 
throng  of  idle  spectators,  a  stranger  enters  the 


128  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

portico  unobserved.  He  passes  along  with  a 
quiet  step  and  a  pitying  look,  till  his  eye  falls 
upon  the  most  helpless  and  wretched  of  all  the 
company.  For  thirty -eight  years  that  misera- 
ble man  has  been  bound  to  a  crippled  and  suf- 
fering body,  and  the  long  and  dreadfid  servi- 
tude has  crushed  his  spirit  and  broken  his  heart. 
The  lustre  of  life  has  faded  from  his  eye,  and  the 
expression  of  interest  from  his  face.  His  whole 
personal  appearance  is  most  wretched  and  re- 
volting, and  the  rest  of  the  company  shrink 
from  approaching  or  addressing  him.  He  is 
shunned  the  more  carefully  for  the  reason  that 
his  infirmity  is  known  to  have  been  caused  by 
his  own  sin,  and  he  is  looked  upon  as  smitten 
of  God,  and  accursed.  He  has  no  one  to  help 
him  wdien  the  favored  moment  comes  to  enter 
the  water.  The  troubled  wave  betrays  the  pres- 
ence of  a  new  life  that  now  quickens  him.  For 
years  he  has  spread  his  miserable  mat  upon  the 
stone  floor  at  the  very  edge  of  the  pool,  wait- 
ing for  the  all-healing  angel  to  descend,  but 
never  has  he  been  able  to  enter  the  troubled 
water  in  time  to  be  made  whole.  And  he  has 
grown  so  old  and  impotent,  and  his  long  mis- 


BETHESDA. 


129 


ery  has  so  nearly  crushed  the  life  out  of  him, 
that  many  wonder  why  he  need  exhaust  his 
little  remaining  strength  in  creeping  down  to  his 


old  place,  when  his  continual  coming  has  done 
him  no  good.  Many  wish  he  Avould  not  come 
to  shock  the  sensibilities  of  others  with  the 
sight  of  his  wretchedness. 


130  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

On  him  the  quiet  stranger  looks  with  a  pity- 
ing eye,  till  his  attention  is  arrested,  and  then 
He  puts  the  startling  question,  "Wilt  thou  be 
made  whole?"  Made  whole!  For  what  other 
purpose  has  he  dragged  his  crippled  frame  to 
that  healing  fountain?  For  what  else  has  he 
longed  and  groaned  in  spirit  for  thirty-eight 
years  ?  What  other  blessing  could  lie  crave  so 
earnestly,  while  the  faintest  gleam  of  hope  con-- 
tinned  to  shine  in  his  enfeebled  and  darkened 
mind?  But  now  it  seems  almost  like  mockery 
to  ask  him  the  question,  for  there  is  no  eye  to 
pity,  and  no  arm  to  help  him.  The  healing- 
movement  of  the  waters  is  all  for  others,  not 
for  him. 

But  the  wretched  man  has  not  half  uttered 
his  despondency,  before  the  eye  that  is  fixed 
upon  him  seems  to  kindle  with  a  benignant 
and  divine  light.  The  countenance  of  the 
stranger  assumes  a  most  fascinating  and  com- 
manding majesty  which  nothing  can  resist. 
The  helpless  creature  already  feels  that  he 
could  travel  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  at  one 
word  from  such  a  face  as  that.     And  no  sooner 


BETHESUA.  131 

thought  than  uttered,  the  quickening  and  crea- 
tive word  comes,  "Arise — walk." 

There  is  no  delay,  no  doubt,  no  question. 
The  diseased  and  despondent  listener  feels  new 
life  rushing  through  every  fibre  of  his  frame. 
Hope  flashes  like  a  new  heaven  upon  his  dark- 
ened mind.  He  can,  he  will,  he  must  obey 
that  voice,  and,  in  the  act  of  obedience,  he  be- 
comes at  once  the  strongest  and  soundest  man 
in  the  multitude.  He,  who  it  was  thought 
would  be  the  last  to  receive  aid  from  the  heal- 
ing fountain,  is  the  first  to  be  made  whole 
without  its  help. 

The  eyes  of  all  are  fixed  upon  him  with  as- 
tonishment as  he  springs  to  his  feet,  throws 
the  matting  on  which  he  was  lying  across  his 
arm,  and  walks  forth  with  the  firm  and  elastic 
step  of  youth.  Excited  spectators  croAvd  around 
him ;  the  colonnade  is  filled  by  additional  num- 
bers attracted  from  without ;  the  sick  forget  to 
watch  for  the  movement  of  the  water;  the 
Sabbath  stillness  that  reigned  through  all  the 
porticos  a  moment  before  is  broken  by  the 
clamor  of  many  voices;  every  one  is  asking 
who  has  done  this  mighty  work ;  and,  in  the 


132  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

meantime,  the  mysterious  stranger,  whose  word 
alone  has  made  the  man  whole,  disappears,  and 
is  nowhere  found. 

The  world  is  one  great  lazar-house  of  dis- 
eased and  suffering  souls,  and  Jesus  comes,  in 
the  message  of  his  word,  to  make  them  whole. 
He  comes  to  you,  whose  eye  now  falls  upon 
this  page,  and  his  presence  makes  the  place 
where  you  read  a  house  of  mercy.  The  first 
awakening  call  of  the  Gospel  to  every  soul  is 
still  the  same  as  that  which  fell  from  the  lips 
of  Jesus  in  the  porches  of  Bethesda:  "Wilt 
thou  be  made  whole?"  This  is  the  great  ques- 
tion of  redemption  in  answer  to  the  great  cry 
of  humanity — "Who  Avill  show  us  any  good?" 
Christ  comes  as  a  Saviour,  a  Healer,  a  Re- 
deemer, and  the  help  which  he  offers  is  suffi- 
cient for  the  utmost  sorrows  and  necessities  of 
the  human  race. 

It  is  not  a  partial  or  a  temporary  relief 
which  he  brings.  He  would  make  the  wounded 
spirit  whole.  He  would  save  from  a  death  that 
shall  never  die.  He  looks  upon  us  in  love 
that  w^e  may  see  in  his  eye  the  promise  of 
something    better   than   the   world   can   give. 


BETHESDA.  133 

And  when  kindness  fails  to  arrest  our  atten- 
tion, he  tries  the  greater  kindness  of  chastise- 
ment and  sorrow.  He  sends  afflictions  and 
disappointments  that  are  bitter  to  the  soul, 
that  he  may  awaken  the  sense  of  need,  that  he 
may  call  forth  the  imploring  cry — "What 
shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  That  cry  must  be 
aw^akened  at  wdiatever  cost,  or  the  fatal  leth- 
argy of  sin  will  go  on  until  it  deepens  into 
complete  and  endless  death. 

The  three  great  moral  faculties  of  the  soul 
are  faith,  hope  and  love,  and  these  lie  all  para- 
lyzed and  inactive  until  Christ  comes  to  give 
them  life. 

Faith  is  the  living  hand  by  which  the  soul 
takes  hold  on  infinite  help.  Faith  is  the  con- 
ducting medium  by  wdiich  the  renewed  heart 
is  made  to  beat  in  unison  with  the  heart  of 
infinite  love.  Faith  lifts  the  veil  from  the 
unseen  world  and  displays  the  glories  of  the 
paradise  above.  Faith  lightens  the  burden 
and  relieves  the  weariness  of  life  by  anticipat- 
ing the  rest  of  heaven.  Faith  rejoices  in  the 
depths  of  affliction,  conquers  in  the  great  fight 
of   temptations,  waxes   stronger   under  every 


12 


134  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

trial  of  its  strength,  reposes  for  protection  un- 
der the  overshadowing  throne  of  the  Most 
High. 

And  yet  without  Christ,  there  is  no  assured 
foundation  on  which  such  faith  can  rest.  He 
alone  is  the  Author  and  the  Finisher  of  faith. 
He  comes  to  the  poor,  the  helpless  and  the 
guilty,  saying,  "  Believe  and  thou  shalt  see 
the  glory  of  God ;  believe  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved ;  believe  and  thou  shalt  never  die." 

Hope  is  the  recovered  treasure,  the  loss  of 
which  had  left  the  soul  utterly  poor  and  un- 
done. Hope  can  sustain  the  soul  like  a  sure 
and  tried  anchor  amid  all  the  tempests  and 
agitations  of  the  world ;  it  can  give  confidence 
and  peace  when  the  heavens  are  dark,  and  the 
journey  of  life  is  ending  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death. 

Without  Christ  the  soul  is  utterly  without 
ho23e,  and  he  comes  upon  the  mission  of  mercy 
to  bring  back  the  lost  treasure,  and  to  make 
every  soul  who  will  receive  him  infinitely  and 
forever  rich  in  the  possession  of  the  hope  of 
eternal  life. 

Love  is  the  o-olden  chain  which  binds  the 


BETHESDA.  135 

"believing  soul  in  willing  bonds  to  the  service 
of  the  supreme  Sovereign,  to  the  society  of 
the  holy  and  the  blessed,  to  the  maintenance 
of  justice  and  truth  forever  and  ever.  Love 
lifts  the  ransomed  soul  from  the  deeps  of  de- 
spair, and  gives  it  wings  to  climb  the  highest 
heaven,  and  a  voice  to  sing  its  great  Redeem- 
er's praise  in  sweeter  strains  than  angels  ever 
sung. 

And  Christ  comes  to  quicken,  in  every  soul 
that  receives  his  word,  the  paralyzed  capacity 
for  such  love,  and  to  kindle  the  faintest  spark 
of  spiritual  life  into  immortal  flame.  Christ 
comes  to  lift  up  the  depraved  and  darkened 
slave  of  sin,  and  make  him  a  fit  companion  for 
the  seraph  that  adores  in  the  highest  heaven, 
and  shines  the  brightest  in  the  splendors  of 
the  eternal  throne. 

These  three  great  moral  faculties  of  man — 
faith,  hope  and  love,  without  the  use  of  which 
he  is  a  paralyzed  and  helpless  creature — this 
immortal  triad  of  powers,  by  the  exercise  of 
which  man  enlists  the  help  of  Omnipotence,  is 
all  in  ruins  until  Christ  comes  with  the  word 
of  life.     He  comes  to  give  soundness  and  un- 


136  WALKS   AND    H03IES. 

conquerable  vitality  to  man's  ruined  nature  by 
renewing  its  decayed  and  unused  capacities  for 
faith,  hope  and  love. 

To  you  who  read  these  lines,  Jesus  comes 
pityingly  as  he  came  to  the  man  in  Bethesda. 
To  you  he  speaks  with  a  voice  which  blends  so 
quietly  with  your  own  thought  that  it  seems 
like  the  voice  of  your  own  heart.  "  AVouldst 
thou  be  made  whole?  Wouldst  thou  have 
every  faculty  of  thy  spiritual  and  immortal 
nature  restored  to  a  sound  and  healthful  life? 
Wouldst  thou  be  brought  into  such  a  state  of 
intelligent  and  happy  agreement  wdth  thyself 
as  that  the  lessons  of  experience,  the  deduc- 
tions of  reason,  the  monitions  of  conscience, 
shall  be  always  and  willingly  obeyed?  Wouldst 
thou  have  thy  whole  moral  being  so  completely 
renovated  and  glorified  as  that  to  thee  all 
things  shall  become  new;  the  world  shall  be 
full  of  beauty;  the  pathway  of  life  shall  be 
strewn  with  blessing;  every  loss  shall  be  at- 
tended w^ith  greater  gain;  every  disappoint- 
ment shall  be  the  promise  of  greater  good; 
every  affliction  shall  be  crowned  with  mercy, 


BETHESDA.  137 

and  death  shall  come  only  to  give  the  crown 
of  life?" 

All  this  would  Jesus  gladly  do  for  every 
soul.  It  is  not  necessary  for  any  one  to  give 
up  his  heart  to  be  wasted  with  vain  conflicts,  to 
be  consumed  with  unanswered  desire.  There 
is  rest  for  the  weary  even  here,  and  Christ  will 
give  it  to  all  who  ask  him.  Many  times,  in 
many  forms,  he  puts  the  question:  "AVilt  thou 
be  made  whole?"  When  you  felt  yourself 
drawn  to  the  book  of  God  by  a  secret  and  gen- 
tle power,  and  a  sudden  light  flashed 'upon  the 
page  as  you  read,  and  it  seemed,  for  the  mo- 
ment, as  if  it  had  been  all  written  for  you; 
when  the  preaching  of  the  Divine  Avord  and  the 
ordinar}^  service  of  the  sanctuary  made  an  un- 
usually solemn  and  persuasive  appeal  to  your 
heart ;  when  the  prayer  that  went  up  from  hu- 
man lips  seemed,  in  very  deed,  to  take  hold  on 
God,  and  to  bring  the  awful  realities  of  eter- 
nity near;  then  Christ  was  stirring,  in  your 
own  heart,  the  startling  question  which  he  put 
to  the  man  in  Bethesda,  "Wilt  thou  be  made 
whole?" 

When  the  failure  of  w^orldly  plans,  the  dis- 

12  * 


138  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

appointment  of  cherished  hopes,  the  death  of 
beloved  friends,  the  near  approach  of  the  eter- 
nal world  under  the  shadow  of  sickness  or 
danger,  made  all  earthly  things  seem  vain  and 
incapable  of  satisfying  the  supreme  necessities 
of  the  soul,  then  Christ  was  drawing  near  and 
putting  the  question  seriousl}^,  tenderly,  to  your 
heart:  "AVilt  thou  be  made  whole?" 

When  the  love  of  Christ  seemed  to  put  on  a 
new  and  strange  beauty  and  drew  you  to  his 
cross  with  a  resistless  power,  and  conscience 
declared  the  sin  of  neglecting  that  power  to  be 
very  great,  and  3^ou  could  not  repress  the  long- 
ing of  your  heart  for  a  better  portion  than 
earth  can  give ;  then  Christ  was  looking  upon 
you  Avith  tenderness  and  pity,  as  he  looked  on 
the  wretched  man  at  Bethesda,  saying:  "Wilt 
thou  be  made  whole?" 

Wlien  some  strano-e  li'o-ht  revealed  the  hid- 
den  depth  of  sin  in  your  own  heart,  and  you 
were  so  alarmed  and  horror-struck  by  the  dis- 
covery, that  you  were  ready  to  cry  out,  "  Oh ! 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !  Who  shall  deliver 
me  from  the  body  of  this  death?"  Then  the 
Friend  of  the  friendless,   the  Saviour  of  sin- 


BETH  ESI)  A.  139 

ners,  Avas  saying  to  you  with  such  compassiou 
as  he  showed  to  the  afflicted  on  earth :  "  Look 
unto  Me  and  be  saved.  I  have  borne  thine  in- 
iquities ;  by  the  stripes  hiid  on  me  thou  canst 
be  healed." 

So,  in  a  thousand  ways,  is  Christ  ever  urging 
upon  every  hearer  of  his  Gospel  the  acceptance 
of  the  greatest  possible  blessing,  a  restored 
spiritual  life,  a  sound,  healthful  and  happy  ex- 
ercise of  the  best  and  noblest  faculties  of  the 
soul.  Everything  which  can  make  existence  a 
blessing,  everything  for  wdiicli  the  deathless 
soul  was  created,  is  staked  upon  obedience  to 
the  word  of  Christ,  when  he  says  :  "  Come  unto 
me."  The  glory,  the  blessedness  and  the  joy 
of  an  eternal  life  are  his  who  looks  to  Christ 
and  to  him  alone  for  help.  The  conditions 
upon  which  he  bestows  infinite  riches  are  such 
as  to  bring  the  gift  of  life  within  the  reach  of 
the  poorest  and  the  worst. 

We  must  come  to  Christ  confessing  our  need. 
He  comes  to  us  as  a  Saviour,  and  we  shall 
never  receive  him  to  our  hearts  until  we  feel 
that,  without  him,  we  are  lost,  utterly  and  for- 
ever.    He  comes  to  make  us  whole,  to  deliver 


140  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

US  completely  and  forever  from  the  dreadful 
disease  of  sin.  To  derive  help  from  him,  we 
must  feel  that  to  live  in  sin  is  death,  and  to 
die  without  a  Saviour  is  endless  despair.  Our 
great  need,  our  utterly  lost  and  hopeless  state 
must  be  our  great  argument  in  applying  to  an 
infinite  Saviour  for  help.  And  we  must  be 
truthful  and  candid  in  confessing  that  we  are 
lost  in  ourselves,  and  then  we  shall  look  the 
more  earnestly  to  him  for  salvation. 

AVe  must  go  to  Christ  sincerely  desiring  such 
help  as  he  is  prej^ared  to  give.  His  name  and 
his  character,  his  life  and  his  death  fulfill  the 
promise  ;  "  He  shall  save  his  people  from  their 
sins."  Such  a  salvation  we  must  seek  in  com- 
ing to  Jesus  with  sincere  hearts. 

It  is  not  simply  rescue  from  punishment,  it 
is  a  holy  life,  a  life  of  faith,  and  love,  and  obe- 
dience to  God,  that  we  need.  This  is  the  heal- 
ing which  the  word  of  Christ  alone  can  give. 
iVnd  every  sinner  should  be  ready  to  say  to 
Christ:  "I  come  to  thee  for  help,  that  I  may 
get  the  mastery  of  my  evil  heart,  that  I  may 
lead  a  holy  life,  that  I  may  be  made  whole 
from  this  very  hour.     I  ask  no  earthly  gift.     I 


BETHESDA.  Ill 

am  willing  to  toil,  to  wait,  and  to  suffer  all  the 
days  of  my  appointed  time  of  trial  and  of 
duty,  if,  at  last,  I  may  be  with  thee,  and  find 
my  name  written  in  thy  book  of  life." 

We  must  look  to  Christ  expecting  to  find 
help.  AVe  cannot  trust  him  too  much  or  too 
soon.  We  cannot  over  estimate  his  power  or 
his  willingness  to  grant  us  pardon,  peace  and 
salvation.  He  has  died  for  our  redemption, 
and  what  can  he  do  more  to  convince  us  of  his 
desire  to  save  ?  Inquirers  for  the  way  of  sal- 
vation wait  and  wonder  that  they  are  so  long 
in  finding  the  object  of  their  search,  because 
they  do  not  expect  to  find  it.  They  are  not 
ready  to  take  the  hand  which  Christ  offers 
them  and  walk  with  him,  and  therefore  they 
are  still  wandering  and  in  darkness.  They 
are  not  yet  fully  resolved  to  take  up  the  cross 
at  once,  trusting  that  strength  will  be  given 
them  to  bear  it,  and  therefore  they  are  bear- 
ing the  heavier  burden  of  their  own  sins. 
We  must  look  to  Jesus  as  we  look  to  a  tried 
and  faithful  friend  in  time  of  need,  confident 
that  our  necessities  will  touch  his  heart,  and 


142  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

that  we  have  only  to  make  known  our  wants 
to  be  sure  of  his  sympathy  and  support. 

When  Jesus  entered  the  crowded  j)orches 
of  Bethesda,  he  sought  out  the  most  hopeless 
and  wretched  of  all  the  impotent  multitude, 
and  made  that  helpless  creature  whole  in  a 
moment,  that  he  might  inspire  all  others  with 
confidence  in  his  power  to  save.  We  cannot 
trust  such  a  Saviour  too  much,  or  too  soon.  To 
be  forgiven,  to  have  the  dark  record  of  our  sins 
blotted  out  forever,  to  be  made  heirs  of  eter- 
nal life,  we  need  no  worth  of  our  own ;  no  hu- 
man friend  can  help  us  ;  it  is  in  vain  to  wait  for 
stronger  persuasions,  or  better  opportunities,  or 
holier  dispositions.  We  must  go  to  Christ,  and 
to  him  alone.  AVe  must  go  to  him  just  as 
we  are,  and  with  full  confidence  in  his  power 
to  save.  He  has  done  all  for  us,  just  be- 
cause we  can  do  nothing  for  ourselves.  He 
is  rich  enough  to  answer  all  our  need.  He 
is  merciful  enough  to  forgive  all  our  sins. 
He  desires  of  us  nothing  so  much  as  that 
we  shall  be  willing  to  take  the  crown  of  life 
from  his  own  hands. 


TABOR. 


A?id  it  ca77ie  to  ;pass  about  a?i  eight  days  after  these  sayings, 
he  took  Peter  and  yohfi  and  James,  a?id  went  up  into  a  mountain 
to  pray.  And  as  he  prayed,  the  fashion  of  his  coti?itenance  xvas 
altered,  and  his  raimetit  -n.asivhite  and  glistering.  And,  behold, 
there  talked  ivith  hi}n  tivo  men,  ivhich  -were  Moses  and  Elias : 
ivho  appeared  in  glory,  and  spake  of  his  decease  ivhich  he  should 
accomplish  at  Jerusalem. — Luke  ix.  28-31. 


V. 

TABOR. 

HE  earthly  ministry  of  our  Lord  sup- 
plies three  subjects  of  most  profound 
and  commanding  interest,  to  all  read- 
ers of  the  Gospels ;  the  miracles,  the  parables, 
and  the  passion.  His  mighty  works  arrested 
attention.  His  divine  instructions  disclosed 
his  true  character  and  the  object  of  his  mis- 
sion. His  atoning  death  completed  his  work 
and  confirmed  the  truthfulness  of  all  he  had 
spoken. 

The  mighty  works  would  have  been  inex- 
plicable without  the  divine  word.  The  perfect 
life  would  have  been  a  still  greater  mystery 
without  the  atoning  death.  Sight  was  given  to 
the  blind,  that  truth  might  find  entrance  to  the 
soul.  The  cross  was  borne  by  the  king,  that 
his  redeemed  subjects  might  share  his  crown. 
This  great  mystery  of   suffering  is  what  the 

13  145 


146  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

disciples  found  it  hardest  to  understand.  The 
awful  glory  of  the  transfiguration  was  un- 
doubtedly displayed  to  keep  alive  their  feeble 
faith  in  him  as  the  Messiah,  Avhen  once  he  had 
begun  to  teach  them  that  he  must  be  rejected 
and  crucified  at  Jerusalem. 

He  had  extended  his  journeyings  northward 
to  the  utmost  boundaries  of  Palestine.  Out 
of  the  reach  of  Herod  and  of  Caiaphas,  Avith 
nothing  to  fear  from  Jew  or  Roman,  he  takes 
this  opportunity  to  make  the  terrible  announce- 
ment to  his  devoted  followers,  that  he  must  vet 
go  back  to  Jerusalem  and  give  himself  up  to 
die.  His  hour  will  come  and  no  earthly  hand 
can  stay  its  approach.  The  sacrifice  was  ap- 
pointed from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  and 
it  must  be  fulfilled  though  heaven  and  earth 
should  pass  away.  And,  to  make  this  declara- 
tion still  more  dark  and  afflicting  to  his  disci- 
ples, it  followed  immediately  upon  the  assur- 
ance that  he  was  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the 
living  God. 

He  had  just  told  them,  in  the  most  solemn 
and  explicit  terms,  that  he  would  establish  his 
kingdom  in  the  earth  so  firmly  that  the  gates 


TABOE.  147 

of  hell  should  not  prevail  against  it.  He  had 
commended  Peter  for  declaring  his  confidence 
in  his  divine  character.  He  had  said,  that  his 
Father  in  heaven  had  made  that  revelation  to 
the  believing  disciple.  He  had  claimed  the 
crown  and  accepted  the  title  of  God's  anointed 
Son.  And  now  he  says  that  he  must  go  to  Je- 
rusalem, submit  to  shame  and  torture,  and  be 
put  to  death.  JN'ow  he  rebukes  Peter  with  the 
utmost  severity,  for  daring  to  hint  that  such  a 
dreadful  thing  could  not  come  to  pass.  After 
having  excited  their  hopes  to  the  highest  pitch, 
he  even  goes  on  to  tell  them  that  they  too  must 
bear  the  cross  and  suffer  shame,  or  they  can 
never  share  his  glory.  His  own  suffering- 
must  be  completed  in  them,  and  his  crucifixion 
to  the  world  must  be  2:)erpetuated  in  the  expe- 
rience of  his  disciples  for  all  time. 

Six  days  intervened  between  the  time  of 
making  these  startling  disclosures  to  his  fol- 
lowers and  the  transfiguration.  To  them,  the 
days  were  full  of  sadness  and  perplexity. 
They  had  many  reasonings  Avith  themselves,, 
as  they  journeyed  southward  from  Cesarea 
Philippi   beside   the   waters   of    Merom,    and 


148  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

along  the  shores  of  the  sea  of  Galilee,  toward 
the  fatal  city,  where  ignominy  and  death 
awaited  their  Master.  As  they  went  on  day 
after  day  from  village  to  village,  and  from  one 
province  to  another,  it  must  have  seemed  pass- 
ing strange  to  them,  that  he  could  go,  volun- 
tarily and  unbidden,  to  meet  the  very  doom 
which  would  be  ruin  to  all  their  hopes,  and 
grief  to  all  their  hearts. 

They  could  not  venture  to  remonstrate,  or  to 
dissuade  him  from  his  purpose;  for  he  had  al- 
ready denounced  all  such  interference  as  sug- 
gestions of  Satan.  They  could  not  renounce 
all  hope  that  he  might  yet  prove  himself  to  be 
the  Son  of  the  Highest,  because  he  was  daily 
putting  forth  his  mighty  power  in  such  works 
as  no  mere  man  could  do.  Their  minds  were 
still  dazzled  and  allured  by  the  glory  and 
riches  which  they  hoj^ed  to  enjoy  with  him  in 
his  earthly  kingdom.  And  yet  all  the  while 
he  was  leading  them  towards  the  scene  of  his 
rejection  and  shame,  his  crucifixion  and  death. 

Six  days  are  past  by  them  in  utter  perplex- 
ity and  sorrow.  And  now  the  time  has  come 
when  the  disciples  must  receive  some  addi- 


TABOR. 


149 


tional  testimony  to  the  Messiahship  of  their 
beloved  Master,  or  they  will  lose  all  faith  in 
his  divine  mission;  they  will  no  longer  look  to 
him  as  the  one  to  redeem  Israel. 

It  is  drawing  towards  evening.     The  labor- 
ers are  gathering  in  from  the  vineyards  and 


the  harvest  fields,  to  the  villages.  The  bleat- 
ing flocks  are  returning  to  the  folds  on  the 
grassy  slopes  of  Tabor.  The  snowy  heights 
of  distant  Hermon  are  reddening  in  the  glow 
of  the  setting  sun.  Mount  Carmel  casts  its 
lengthening  shadows  far  up  the  plain  of  Es- 

13  « 


150  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

clraelon.  The  deep  silence  which  settles  down 
upon  the  solitudes  of  nature,  invites  to  retire- 
ment, meditation  and  prayer. 

And  now  the  Master  calls  the  three  favorite 
disciples  to  himself,  and  makes  his  way  out  of 
the  noisy  town,  across  the  open  fields  and  the 
wild  pasture  lands,  and  i\])  the  steep  ascent  of 
the  mountain.  It  is  a  rounded  and  dome-like 
elevation,  pushed  up  to  a  great  height,  out  of 
the  bosom  of  the  plain.  The  evening  cloud 
sweeps  beneath  the  summit,  and  the  light  of 
the  setting  sun  lingers  long  upon  the  top,  after 
it  has  left  the  plain  below. 

The  path  first  leads  through  waving  fields 
of  golden  grain.  Then  vines  and  olives  cover 
the  terraces  of  limestone  and  earth.  When 
the  slope  grows  steeper,  thick  forests  of  oak 
and  terebinth  conceal  the  Master  and  his  dis- 
ciples. 

He  has  spent  the  day  in  travel  and  in  teach- 
ing, and  this  mountain  climb  at  night  adds  a 
heavy  weight  to  the  weariness  that  demanded 
rest  before  the  evening  came.  His  hand  has 
lifted  the  burden  of  infirmity  from  many 
shoulders,  and  sent  the  thrill  of  life  into  many 


TABOK.  151 

a  worn  and  wasted  frame.  But  he  himself  is 
as  much  fatigued  with  the  steep  ascent  as  the 
impetuous  Peter  or  the  gentle  John.  They  do 
not  ask  him  whither  he  is  going,  or  for  what 
purpose  he  leads  them  away  to  the  solitude  of 
the  mountain  just  as  night  is  setting  in,  and 
they  all  need  repose  and  protection  in  the 
homes  which  they  have  left  behind.  They 
have  known  him  many  times  to  spend  the 
whole  night  in  desert  places,  or  upon  lonely 
mountains  in  prayer,  and  they  do  not  need  to 
ask  him  for  what  purpose  he  leads  them  forth 
from  the  noisy  crowd  or  the  quiet  homes  of 
men  at  the  evening  hour.  They  go  because  he 
asks  their  company;  and  yet  they  think  it 
strange  that  he  must  needs  add  this  lonely 
watching  in  the  chill  air  of  night,  to  the  weari- 
ness and  exhaustion  of  the  day.  Peter  thinks 
he  is  beside  himself,  and  he  would  tell  him  so 
if  he  had  not  been  so  recently  rebiiked  and  si- 
lenced for  obtruding  advice  upon  his  Master. 

They  reach  the  utmost  height  and  look  forth 
upon  the  world  which  they  have  left  behind. 
It  is  a  goodly  sight  to  behold,  and  such  an  one 
as  cannot  be  seen  elsewhere  in  all  the  Holy 


152  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

Land.  Far  away  in  the  west,  the  waves  of  the 
Mediterranean  glow,  like  molten  gold,  where 
the  sun  has  sunk  beneath  the  horizon.  North- 
east, Tiberias,  the  pearl  of  seas,  lies  deep-set 
among  hills,  with  a  changing  border  of  golden 
tints  and  purjDle  shadows;  now  calm,  as  if 
still  sleeping  beneath  the  spell  of  the  mighty 
word  that  spoke  peace  to  its  stormy  waves. 
Northward  the  snows  of  still  loftier  mountains 
look  like  altar-fires,  burning  unto  the  midst  of 
heaven.  Nearer,  within  the  sweep  of  the  eye, 
is  the  blessed  Mount  on  which  Jesus  opened 
the  ministr}^  of  reconciliation  with  beatitudes 
upon  the  poor,  the  meek  and  the  merciful. 
Eastward,  the  highlands  of  Gilead  and  Bashan 
rise  in  broken  ridges  and  rounded  domes,  like 
the  waves  of  a  stormy  sea.  Southward  winds 
a  silvery  haze,  ma^^king  the  course  where  the 
swift  Jordan  rushes  down  its  deep  and  rocky 
bed.  Northwest,  Carmel  pushes  out  its  bold 
headland  into  the  sea,  clothed  with  the  excel- 
lency of  the  forest,  and  lifting  itself  up  like  an 
altar  for  the  evening  sacrifice,  as  in  the  day 
when  the  priests  of  Baal  cried  in  vain  to  the 


TABOR.  153 

god  of  fire  to  kindle  his  own  offering,  and  the 
fire  of  the  Lord  fell  at  the  word  of  Elijah. 

The  road  where  the  prophet  ran  before  the 
chariot  of  Ahab,  in  the  face  of  a  driving  storm, 
up  the  vale  of  Esdraelon  from  Carmel  to  Jez- 
reel ;  the  wild  hill-track,  along  which  doomed 
and  despairing  Saul  rode  by  night,  from  En- 
dor,  where  he  hajl  been  to  seek  forbidden 
knowledge,  to  Gilboa,  where  he  went  to  fight 
and  die;  the  harvest  fields,  where  the  only  child 
of  the  Shunamite  received  a  sun- stroke  while 
watching  the  reapers ;  the  stone  houses  of  Shu- 
nem,  where  Elisha  found  the  dead  child  in  his 
own  chamber  and  raised  him  to  life;  the  hill- 
town  of  Nain,  where  Jesus  stojoped  the  funeral 
procession,  and  restored  the  dead  son  alive  to 
his  mother ;  despised  Nazareth,  where  the  Di- 
vine Life  was  hidden  for  thirty  years,  and 
Cana,  imbosomed  in  orchards  of  pomegranates 
and  reclined  on  the  slope  of  a  hill,  where  Jesus 
manifested  forth  his  glory  by  the  beginning  of 
miracles ;  all  are  in  sight.  Plains  of  the 
greatest  fertility,  scenes  of  the  deepest  historic 
interest,  mountains  of  the  wildest  and  most 
desolate  grandeur  in  all  Palestine,  may  be  seen 


154  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

from  this  one  solitary  height  where  Jesus  goes 
apart  with  his  three  favored  disciples,  to  spend 
the  night  in  prayer. 

But  not  to  gaze  on  the  landscape  which  one 
might  travel  half  round  the  globe  to  see ;  not 
to  rest  after  long  and  exhausting  toil ;  not  to 
escape  impending  danger,  has  Jesus  sought 
this  mountain  solitude.  He  has  no  bed  but 
the  bare  earth.  The  dew  falls  like  rain  at 
evening,  and  the  morning  wind  will  come 
from  perpetual  snows.  To  such  a  place  the 
Man  of  sorrows  goes  to  spend  the  whole  night 
in  prayer.  And  as  his  supplication  continues 
hour  after  hour,  with  strong  crying  and  many 
tears,  the  disciples  grow  weary  with  watching 
and  they  fall  asleep.  The  midnight  passes; 
and  they  sleep  on,  forgetful  of  their  waking 
and  agonizing  Master. 

He  has  told  them  of  the  great  woe  that  will 
come  upon  him  before  another  summer  begins. 
They  have  only  tried  to  divert  his  mind  from 
such  gloomy  anticipations ;  and  now,  when  he 
has  taken  them  aside  that  they  may  watch 
with  him  while  he  prays  for  strength  to  meet 
the  terrible  conflict,  they  sleep  as  they  slept 


TABOR.  155 

again  in  Grethsemane,  leaving  him  to  bear  his 
great  agony  alone.  Their  indifference  must 
have  been  the  more  distressing  to  him  for  the 
reason  that  he  was  praying  especially  for  such 
a  manifestation  of  his  glory  before  their  eyes 
as  would  heal  their  unbelief,  and  help  them 
to  be  reconciled  to  the  humiliation  and  death 
which  awaited  him  at  Jerusalem. 

And  the  mighty  Mediator  is  not  left  to  pray 
unheard.  Suddenly,  as  if  the  golden  gates  of 
heaven  had  been  thrown  wide,  and  the  splen- 
dor of  the  eternal  throne  had  been  poured 
upon  the  holy  mount,  the  bending  suppliant  is 
clothed  with  a  glory  above  the  brightness  of 
the  sun.  'No  longer  prostrate  in  an  agony  of 
prayer,  he  seems  to  sit  enthroned  amid  the 
radiance  of  light  ineffable.  His  countenance 
wears  the  aspect  of  serene  and  godlike  majesty, 
and  his  garments  shine  like  the  drifted  snow 
beneath  the  noonday  sun. 

The  sleeping  disciples  are  wakened  by  the 
flood  of  glory  covering  the  whole  mount. 
Gazing  with  wonder  and  alarm  upon  the  shin- 
ing robes  and  the  changed  countenance  of  their 
Master,  they  see  that  he  is  not  alone.     The 


156  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

great  lawgiver,  who  conversed  with  Jehovah 
amid  the  thunders  and  the  darkness  of  Sinai, 
and  the  mighty  prophet  who  was  taken  up  in  a 
chariot  of  fire,  have  come  down  from  their 
heavenly  rest  to  pay  their  homage  to  their 
King,  and  to  talk  with  him  of  the  appointed 
completion  of  his  mission,  while  his  disciples 
sleep.  Somehow,  strangely,  they  see  at  once 
that  it  is  Moses  and  Elijah  with  whom  he 
speaks.  And  these  ancient  worthies  are  fully 
aware  of  the  awful  tragedy  to  be  accomplished 
at  Jerusalem,  the  announcement  of  which 
from  the  lips  of  their  Master  had  so  greatly 
tasked  their  faith  and  afflicted  their  hearts. 

The  disciples  are  confused  and  bewildered 
by  the  sudden  waking  and  by  the  awful  vision. 
They  know  not  what  to  say,  and  yet  Peter,  as 
usual,  feels  that  he  must  speak.  He  repeats 
substantially,  in  a  milder  form,  the  suggestion 
for  which  he  had  already  been  severely  re- 
buked by  the  meek  and  gentle  Master.  He 
proposes  that  Jesus  shall  remain  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance from  the  dangers  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
death  of  the  cross,  and  set  up  his  throne,  for 
the  government  of  the  world,  upon  that  holy 


TABOR.  157 

mount,  and  inaugurate  his  reign  with  the 
splendors  with  which  they  are  surrounded. 

And  while  he  is  yet  speaking,  the  awful 
cloud  of  the  Shechinah's  glory  that  went 
before  the  tribes  in  the  wilderness,  overshadows 
them,  and  out  of  the  cloud  comes  the  divine 
voice  which  had  spoken  from  the  tabernacle  of 
Moses  and  from  the  temple  of  Solomon.  It 
sets  at  naught  the  weakness  and  vanity  of  all 
human  counsel,  and  commands  attention  to  the 
supreme  source  of  wisdom  and  authority,  say- 
ing, "This  is  my  beloved  Son.  Hear  him." 
And  with  that  first  and  final  lesson  for  the 
interpretation  of  all  mysteries  and  the  attain- 
ment of  all  faith,  the  Adsion  passes.  When 
the  disciples,  smitten  to  the  ground  by  the  ter- 
ror of  "the  voice  from  the  excellent  glory," 
lift  up  their  eyes  again,  they  see  no  man  but 
Jesus  only. 

The  morning  breaks  upon  the  mountain 
with  a  brightness  less  than  the  vision  of  the 
night,  and  the  returning  day  reveals  a  world 
of  sin  and  suffering  where  Jesus  and  his  disci- 
ples must  resume  the  work  of  instruction  and 
mercy.     They    have    heard    his    divinity    pro- 


158  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

claimed  by  the  voice  from  the  unapproachable 
glory,  and  now  they  must  follow  him,  in  pa- 
tience and  faith,  to  the  cross  and  the  grave. 

And  for  what  purpose  were  the  disciples 
called  to  witness  and  to  record  this  extraordi- 
nary scene  on  the  mount  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion ?  Doubtless  its  full  meaning  must  pass 
beyond  our  comprehension,  as  it  did  beyond 
theirs.  ISTevertheless  it  teaches  some  lessons 
which  are  as  clear  and  important  to  us  as  they 
were  to  them. 

It  shows  the  suffering  and  glorified  Re- 
deemer to  be  the  one  object  of  supreme  interest 
and  attraction  in  the  whole  revelation  of  God 
to  man.  This  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  who,  for 
two  years  and  a  half  had  been  going  to  and  fro 
a  homeless  wanderer  through  all  Judaea,  is 
disclosed  on  the  holy  mount  as  the  son  of  the 
Highest,  to  whom  the  j^atriarchs  and  prophets 
of  the  olden  time  render  homage,  in  whom  the 
mighty  spirits  of  the  blessed  world  recognize 
their  King.  The  great  lawgiver  of  Israel, 
after  fifteen  hundred  years  of  growing  know- 
ledge in  the  life  of  heaven,  comes  down  from 
the  mansions  of  paradise  to  acknowledge  the 


TABOR.  159 

divine  Prophet  and  Deliverer,  whose  eoniing 
he  had  foretold  so  long  ago.  Moses  himself  is 
seen  and  heard  reverently  talking  with  Jesus 
of  the  great  event  of  his  crucifixion,  in  which 
the  inhabitants  of  earth  and  heaven  have  the 
most  profound  and  awful  interest. 

The  greatest  of  all  the  prophets,  whose  pres- 
ence was  a  terror  to  kings  and  whose  prayers 
shut  up  heaven  in  the  days  of  Israel's  apos- 
tacy,  comes  back  to  acknowledge  Jesus  as  a 
greater  prophet  than  himself,  and  to  speak  of 
his  appointed  death  in  Jerusalem  as  the  great 
expiation  without  which  there  could  be  no  hope 
for  a  lost  world.  This  august  embassy  from 
the  world  of  spirits,  representing  all  the  provi- 
dences and  revelations  in  th^  past,  and  all  the 
sublime  intelligence  of  the  redeemed  in  heaven, 
appears  in  glory  on  the  holy  mount,  to  testify, 
that  in  Christ,  all  promises  of  mercy  to  man 
are  fulfilled,  and  that  through  his  death  only 
can  there  be  redemption  for  the  lost.  The 
decease,  which  Christ  was  to  accomplish  at 
Jerusalem,  was  already  known  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  heaven.  They  speak  of  it  as  an  event 
which  must  of   necessity  take  place,  and  one 


160  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

which,  in  its  consequences,  woiikl  become  the 
wonder  of  angels  and  the  source  of  joy  and 
praise  to  the  universe. 

That  great  event,  so  dark,  so  inexplicable, 
Avhen  foretold  to  the  disciples,  has  noAv,  for 
eighteen  hundred  years,  become  a  matter  of 
history,  and  it  is  the  source  of  light,  of  joy 
and  of  blessing  to  millions  to-day.  The  bur- 
den of  sin,  crushing  the  penitent  and  weary 
soul,  falls  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  The  afflicted 
and  sorrowing  are  all  comforted- Avhen  they  look 
to  the  cross.  The  darkness  of  the  grave  is 
scattered  by  the  light  which  shines  from  the 
cross.  We  can  glory  and  rejoice  in  every  con- 
dition of  life,  we  can  triumph  over  death,  just 
because  the  Son  of  God  came  down  from  hea- 
ven, took  upon  himself  our  infirmities,  and 
voluntarily  submitted  to  the  sacrifice  which  his 
own  disciples  were  most  anxious  to  have  him 
escape. 

He  has  returned  to  his  -heavenly  throne  with 
the  scars  of  his  earthly  conflict  still  upon  him. 
While  worshipped  by  adoring  hosts,  he  still 
appears  to  them  as  one  that  has  been  slain. 
Our  earthly  worship  will  be  most  like  that  of 


TABOR.  161 

heaven  when  most  we  exalt  the  sin-atoning 
Lamb.  We  shall  be  most  sure  of  joining  the 
society  and  the  song  of  the  blessed  when  most 
humbly  and  fully  we  trust  in  a  crucified  Sa- 
viour. 

JN'o  one  will  understand  the  Gospel,  who 
fails  to  see  that  the  cross  is  the  central  source 
of  hope,  of  life  and  of  exaltation  to  man.  No 
one  will  find  peace  in  believing,  so  long  as  he 
is  ashamed  to  bear  the  cross  and  follow  Christ. 
No  one  will  aj)preciate  the  blessing  which  the 
Grospel  bestows,  until  he  feels  that  he  can  richly 
and  joyfully  afibrd  to  sacrifice  everything  else 
only  to  win  Christ  and  be  found  in  him. 
Everything  given  for  Christ  enriches  the  giver, 
and  everything  sufi'ered  for  him  increases  the 
final  joy. 

The  transfiguration  shows  it  to  be  our  first 
and  supreme  duty  to  hear  and  obey  Christ. 
The  voice  which  gave  this  command  on  the 
holy  mount,  is  the  voice  that  Adam  heard  in 
Paradise.  It  speaks  in  the  inspiration  of  the 
Psalms  and  the  Prophets,  and  it  declares  our 
individual  duty  with  the  same  authority  by 

which  the  law  was  given  to  Moses,  and  judg= 

It  * 


162  AVALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

merits  were  inflicted  by  the  word  of  Elijah. 
It  directs  every  perplexed  and  doubting  mind 
to  Christ,  saying  evermore,  "This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  hear  him."  It  says  to  the  guilty,  the 
wretched  and  the  hopeless,  "Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 
It  invites  the  weary  and  the  heavy-laden  to 
look  to  him  for  rest.  It  bids  the  thoughtless, 
the  impenitent  and  the  disobedient  hear  his 
words  as  he  cries,  "Except  ye  repent  ye  shall 
all  likewise  perish." 

The  voice  of  prophecy,  the  voice  of  the  evan- 
gelists, the  voice  of  the  whole  Bible,  the  voice 
of  providence,  the  voice  of  conscience  is  ever 
directing  to  Christ  and  commanding  all  to  hear 
and  obey  him.  Christ  himself,  in  his  word, 
and  life,  and  work,  is  the  divine  Wisdom 
which  cries  to  men  evermore  for  their  instruc- 
tion. He  speaks  alike  to  the  mind  that  rea- 
sons, to  the  heart  that  feels  and  to  the  con- 
science which  responds  to  the  claims  of  obli- 
gation. He  has  a  message  of  duty,  of  hope 
and  of  salvation  for  every  soul.  He  has  a 
light  to  command,  and  yet  he  condescends  to 
entreat.     He  has  the  jiower  to  crush,  and  yet 


TABOR.  163 

he  waits  to  be  gracious,  he  longs  to  forgive. 
He  walked  upon  the  waves;  he  hushed  the 
storm;  he  healed  the  sick;  he  gave  sight  to 
the  blind ;  he  raised  the  dead ;  and  all  to  show 
his  power,  his  authority  and  his  willingness  to 
save  the  soul. 

He  still  confers  the  gifts  of  health  and  in- 
struction, and  Sabbaths,  and  sanctuaries,  and 
countless  providential  blessings,  that  he  naay 
make  us  willing  to  hear  his  voice  when  he 
speaks  of  things  of  intinite  and  everlasting- 
interest  to  us  all.  He  would  kindle  the  fee- 
blest love  into  deathless  flame;  he  would  in- 
spire the  faintest  heart  with  immortal  hope. 
He  would  make  the  least  and  poorest  kings 
unto  God.  He  alone  can  answer  the  one  ques- 
tion of  greatest  moment  to  every  human  being 
in  the  world,  "What  must  I  do  to  be  saved?" 

Jesus  himself,  the  greatest  of  teachers,  the 
regenerator  of  the  human  mind,  the  Saviour  of 
the  human  soul,  speaks  in  the  language  of  com- 
mon life.  He  communicates  the  lessons  of 
heavenly  wisdom  in  such  terms  as  appeal  to 
the  experience  and  necessities  of  all.  He 
adapts  his  instruction  to  all  times  and  places, 


164  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

to  all  classes  and  conditions  of  men.  The 
humble  synagogue  without  a  seat,  the  fishing- 
boat  rocking  on  the  wave,  the  sand  of  the  sea- 
shore, the  greensward  of  the  mountain-side, 
the  solitude  of  the  desert,  the  highway 
thronged  with  travelers,  the  princely  mansion 
crowded  with  guests,  the  private  house  where 
the  homeless  wanderer  rests  for  the  night,  the 
streets  and  public  squares  of  the  city,  the 
sacred  courts  of  the  temple  with  men  coming 
and  going  all  the  while,  are  his  places  of 
preaching  and  the  pulpit  from  whicli  he  pro- 
claims truths  to  shake  the  world. 

He  speaks  always  upon  the  greatest  themes 
that  can  ever  engage  the  mind  of  man,  and  yet 
he  presents  them  in  such  a  form  as  to  instruct 
the  loftiest  intellect  and  interest  the  feeblest 
understanding.  An  honest  desire  to  know  the 
way  of  life  is  the  best  qualification  to  learn  of 
him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake.  Become 
as  a  little  child,  conscious  of  weakness  and 
willing  to  be  instructed,  and  you  will  easily 
learn  from  the  divine  Teacher  a  higher  wisdom 
than  was  ever  taught  in  the  most  renowned 
schools   of    human    philosophy.     Receive   the 


TABOR.  165 

word  of  Christ  as  a  personal  message  to  your 
own  heart ;  appropriate  to  yourself  the  merits 
of  his  death  as  fully  as  if  you  were  the  only 
sinner  in  the  world  for  whom  he  died,  and  you 
will  easily  learn  how  to  be  saved. 

It  is  the  first  duty  and  the  highest  honor  of 
the  preacher  to  stand  and  point  the  way  to 
Jesus,  and  say,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God, 
who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 
Everything  in  his  manner  and  thought  and 
speech  and  life,  should  be  a  living  interpreta- 
tion of  the  voice  from  the  excellent  glory, 
''  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  ye  him."  The 
highest  recommendation  of  the  gospel  from  hu- 
man lips,  is  that  which  most  clearly  presents 
Christ  lifted  up  on  the  cross  as  the  supreme 
object  of  attraction  and  desire,  drawing  all 
men  unto  himself.  It  is  in  hearing  Christ  that 
we  display  the  highest  wisdom  ;  it  is  in  follow- 
ing Christ  that  we  choose  the  noblest  part ;  it 
is  in  obeying  Christ  that  we  secure  our  eternal 
salvation. 

The  transfiguration  shows  how  intimate  the 
relation  which  exists  between  this  every  day 
life  of  ours  and   the  spiritual   world.     Jesus 


166  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

and  his  three  disciples  had  talked  and  traveled 
and  wearied  themselves  on  the  day  preceding 
the  ascent  of  the  holy  mount,  just  as  we  work 
and  weary  ourselves  in  our  daily  occupations. 
The  mountain  w^hich  they  climbed  at  evening, 
w^as  high  and  steep  and  cold,  shadowed  by 
clouds,  bathed  in  sun-light,  swept  by  storms, 
shrouded  in  darkness,  just  like  the  mountains 
which  w^e  have  seen,  just  like  the  hills  which 
we  have  climbed.  When  the  night  came  on, 
the  landscape  of  vineyards  and  fields  and  vil- 
lages beneath  them  faded  into  darkness  ;  the 
solemn  stars  looked  down  from  the  silent  sky, 
and  the  earth  and  rocks  beneath  them  were  w^et 
with  dews,  just  as  the  night  now  comes  in  des- 
ert places. 

And  yet  it  w^as  to  them,  on  that  lonely 
height,  living,  breathing  men  like  ourselves, 
that  there  appeared  from  the  spiritual  world 
other  men  who  had  lived  a  thousand  years 
before.  These  men,  Moses  and  Elijah,  ap- 
peared so  truly  the  same  that  they  were  cen- 
turies before,  that  the  disciples  knew  them  sim- 
ply from  having  read  their  history.  They  did 
not  seem  to  have  come  from  afar.     The  glory 


•  TABOR.  167 

that  burst  forth  from  the  person  of  Jesus  ap- 
peared only  to  have  shown  the  disciples  a  pres- 
ence that  was  with  them  unseen  before.  The 
veil  was  lifted  from  their  eyes  and  they  saw 
with  what  companionship  they  were  sur- 
rounded, and  in  the  midst  of  what  unseen  and 
glorious  presences  they  were  walking  wherever 
they  went  in  the  company  of  Jesus.  And  so 
the  peculiar  manner  in  which  Jesus  is  said  by 
the  evangelists  to  have  shown  himself  to  his 
disciples  after  his  resurrection,  implies  that  he 
was  already  with  them  and  it  was  only  neces- 
sary for  their  eyes  to  be  opened  to  behold  him 
in  the  midst  of  their  company. 

To  all  who  believe  in  Jesus  now,  there  are 
times  when  it  seems  as  if  the  spiritual  world 
were  all  around  them,  and  they  can  almost  feel 
the  touch  of  unseen  hands,  extended  to  lead 
them  on  in  safety,  when  perils  and  difficulties 
beset  the  way.  Sometimes  they  feel  themselves 
to  be  covered  by  the  overshadowing  of  angels' 
wings,  and  ministered  unto  by  the  presence 
and  sympathies  of  unseen  comforters.  The 
chamber  of  death,  where  the  disciple  of  Jesus 
dies,   sometimes  seems   to  shine  with  an   un- 


166  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

earthly  light,  to  catch  the  sound  of  heavenly 
harmonies,  to  be  kept,  through  the  long  hours 
of  weariness  and  pain,  by  unseen  watchers. 

There  may  be  something  of  fancy  in  all  this. 
But  it  is  nevertheless  good  for  us  to  believe, 
that  the  realities  of  the  unseen  world  are  very 
near,  and  that  the  depiirted  disciples  of  Jesus 
are  in  active  sympathy  with  those,  whose  sea- 
son of  trial  and  of  temptation  is  not  yet  closed. 
In  every  sacrifice  we  make  for  Jesus,  in  every 
burden  we  bear  for  him,  it  is  good  for  us  to  feel 
that  we  are  serving  a  King,  whose  face  our  be- 
loved and  blessed  dead  are  permitted  to  behold, 
and  with  whom  they  speak  in  reverent  and 
holy  communion,  as  Moses  and  Elijah  talked 
with  him  on  the  mount  of  the  Transfiguration. 
And  so  may  we  cultivate  in  our  hearts  a  purer 
and  a  more  constant  longing,  ourselves  also  to 
appear  with  him  in  glory  on  the  holy  mount 
of  Paradise. 

The  Transfiguration  teaches  us  that  the  lof- 
tiest visions  of  faith  and  joy,  are  given  to  fit 
us  for  the  struggles  and  temptations  of  our 
daily  life.  From  the  mount  of  the  excellent 
glory,  from  the  midst  of  the  opened  heavens, 


TABOE.  169 

and  the  companionsliip  of  the  blessed,  Jesus 
went  down  to  a  world  of  tears  and  sufferings, 
to  renew  liis  struggle  with  the  unbelief  and 
perversity  of  men,  to  take  up  again  the  burden 
of  their  guilt  and  sorrow,  and  bear  it  to  the 
cross  and  the  grave. 

These  two  utmost  extremes  of  glory  and  of 
grief,  the  heavenly  transfiguration  and  the 
earthly  toil  and  sorrow,  are  combined  in  one 
re]3resentation  by  Raphael,  in  his  last  and 
greatest  work, — many  would  say  the  greatest 
painting  of  all  masters  and  of  all  times, — on 
which  the  world  has  gazed  with  wonder  and 
admiration  for  three  hundred  years.  Christ 
himself  is  seen  on  the  mount,  radiant  with 
light,  reposing  in  serene  and  gentle  majesty 
upon  the  viewless  air,  as  he  once  walked  upon 
the  wave.  There  has  been  but  one  human 
hand,  that  could  represent  to  the  eye,  such  be- 
nignity and  grace,  such  effulgence  of  glory  as 
shine  in  that  wondrous  countenance.  Moses 
and  Elijah  are  rapt  in  ecstacies  of  love  and 
adoration,  as  they  gaze  upon  the  living  and 
embodied  radiance  of  love  divine.  Beneath, 
the  three  disciples,  shielding  their  eyes  with 

15 


170  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

their  hands  from  the  blinding  sj^lendor  poured 
from  the  person  of  their  Master,  have  fallen 
upon  the  ground,  unable  to  look  on  liis  face, 
and  yet  less  able  to  cease  from  gazing. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mount  is  seen  the  lunatic 
child,  with  distorted  and  deathlike  countenance, 
gnashing  his  teeth  and  convulsed  with  agony ; 
the  father  imploring  help  from  the  disciples, 
the  mother  seconding  the  appeal,  with  the 
pangs  of  a  broken  heart  in  every  look,  the 
scribes  cavilling,  the  j^l^ysicians  closing  the 
books  which  they  have  consulted  in  vain  for  a 
cure,  and  the  disciples  themselves  perplexed 
and  in  despair. 

And  all  this  unbelief  and  helplessness,  this 
suffering  and  sorrow  among  men,  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  mountain,  on  which  the  Son  of  God 
is  revealed  in  glory,  to  take  on  himself  the 
burdens  and  iniquities  of  a  lost  world.  The 
great  master  of  pictorial  representation,  vio- 
lates some  of  the  minor  rules  of  his  art,  for  the 
sake  of  securing  a  higher  moral  effect.  He 
presents  the  divine  glory  of  the  Redeemer  and 
the  guilt  and  misery  of  man,  in  one  view,  that 
the  silent   lesson  of  the   twofold   scene,   may 


TABOE.  171 

encourage  all  the  wretched  and  sinful  to  look 
up  for  help,  and  that  it  may  teach  all  who  share 
in  the  vision  of  faith  and  joy,  to  come  down 
from  the  lofty  heights  of  devotion  and  commu- 
nion with  Christ,  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  to 
help  the  needy  and  to  save  the  lost. 

It  is  good,  at  times,  to  put  the  wickedness 
and  the  misery  of  the  world,  at  the  farthest 
possible  remove  from  our  thoughts,  and  give 
ourselves  wholly,  to  the  peace  and  blessedness, 
with  which  the  presence  of  Christ  fills  the  be- 
lieving heart.  It  is  good  to  retire  from  the 
busy  scenes  of  life,  and  gaze  Avith  wonder  and 
adoration,  upon  the  glory  of  Christ,  and  feast 
the  soul  with  the  raptures  of  assured  faith  and 
perfect  love. 

But  the  "vision  of  the  King,"  and  the  fore- 
taste of  heaven  will  not  come  at  our  bidding. 
It  is  in  the  common  walks  of  duty,  that  we  are 
most  sure  of  meeting  Jesus  in  the  way.  The 
lowliest  home  may  receive  angel  guests,,  and 
the  most  weary  pilgrim  may  drink  of  the  foun- 
tain of  life.  There  are  toils  and  conflicts  and 
self-denials  for  us  all  to  meet.  There  must 
need   be   tears   and   sorrows   for   many   sins : 


172  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

struggles  and  watchings  for  the  mastery  of 
depraved  desires  and  dispositions,  offerings  and 
consecrations,  submissions  and  sacrifices  that 
seem  like  taking  the  life  blood  from  the  heart. 
There  must  be  persevering  effort  to  do  good, 
and  patient  waiting  for  success,  and  earnest 
supplication  for  others,  that  will  not  give  them 
ujD  to  be  lost. 

And  when  by  such  steps  we  have  climbed 
the  holy  mount  of  faith,  and  seen  the  face  of 
Jesus  in  his  glory,  we  must  go  again  into  all 
the  haunts  and  homes  of  men  to  testify  of  the 
vision,  that  others  may  be  drawn  to  see  its 
light  and  share  its  joy.  The  purest  and  loftiest 
devotion,  is  that  which  breathes  forth  in  the 
most  earnest  desire  and  effort  to  bring  all  souls 
to  Jesus,  and  to  secure  the  salvation  of  all 
through  him.  The  glory  of  the  Transfiguration 
is  a  passing  gleam  of  heaven's  light,  cast  upon 
the  pathways  of  earth,  to  draw  our  hearts  to 
that  land,  where  there  is  no  night,  and  to  that 
home  where  there  are  no  tears. 


JERICHO. 


As  l^xvent  out  of  yericho  xvith  his  disciples  and  a  great  nu77i- 
ber  of  people,  blind  Bartimojus,  the  son  of  Timceus,  sat  by  the 
highway-side  begging.  J-  nd  when  he  heard  that  it  xvas  Jesus  of 
Nazareth^  he  began  to  cry  out,  and  say,  Jesus,  thou  son  of  David, 
have  mercy  on  me. — Mark  x.  46,  47. 


VI. 

JERICHO 


ANCIENT  CASTLE  NEAR  JERICHO. 

T  Jericho,  outside  of  the  city  gate,  on 
the  road  leading  to  Jerusalem,  and 
consequently  most  thronged  with  trav- 
elers, sits  the  blind  Bartimseus,  begging.  The 
poorest  of  the  many  poor  who  cry  for  bread  in 
all  the  cities  and  highways  of  Judea,  he  has 

175 


176  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

blindness  added  to  poverty,  that  his  ciij)  of 
misery  may  run  over.  To  him  the  whole  of 
life  is  one  long  deej)  night,  to  which  there  is 
no  return  of  morn,  no  visitation  from  the  glory 
and  the  gladness  of  Grod's  blessed  light.  There 
is  no  flower  in  all  the  fields  which  opens  on 
him  with  its  eye  of  beauty;  he  sees  no  smile 
of  pity  or  of  recognition  in  the  "  human  face 
divine."  The  heavens  above  him  are  one  thick 
cloud,  through  which  no  star  shines  ;  the  earth, 
spread  out  for  other  eyes  to  behold,  with  all 
its  gladdening  hills,  and  grassy  plains,  and 
laughing  streams,  to  him  is  nothing  but  solid 
and  substantial  darkness. 

Placed  in  the  midst  of  a  landscape  as  va- 
rious and  enchanting  as  any  on  which  the  sun 
shines  in  all  it^  course,  he  lives  in  the  midst  of 
a  darkness  which  shuts  him  in  as  with  an  im- 
penetrable wall  on  every  side.  Whether  morn- 
ing comes  on  golden  wings  from  the  gorgeous 
East,  or  the  sun  flames  from  his  mid-day 
throne,  or  evening  brings  forth  its  troop  of 
stars  upon  the  plains  of  heaven,  it  is  all  night 
to  him.  His  darkened  eye-balls  roll  in  vain 
to   find   the   lost   day.     His   imprisoned   soul 


JERICHO.  177 

yearns  in  vain  to  find  some  Avay  out  of  the 
thick  gloom  and  tlie  shadow  of  death  with 
which  he  is  surrounded. 

It  has  not  always  been  so  with  him  ;  for  he 
could  once  see.  And  the  remembrance  of  the 
beauty  and  the  glory  with  which  God  covers 
the  hills  of  Judea  in  the  blossoming  spring 
and  the  ripening  summer,  and  which  he  could 
once  behold,  deepens,  by  contrast,  the  darkness 
with  which  he  is  surrounded.  And,  what  adds 
greatly  to  his  misery,  he  has  been  taught  by 
.  the  doctrines  and  traditions  of  his  countrymen, 
that  blindness  has  been  inflicted  upon  him  in 
distinction  from  the  rest  of  men,  as  an  especial 
judgment  for  his  sins.  He  must  believe  that 
the  great  Father  of  light,  whose  smile  fills  the 
universe  with  beauty  and  with  blessing,  only 
frowns  on  him  with  the  thick  clouds  of  his 
anger.  The  ignorant  peasant  and  the  learned 
priest  alike  tell  him  that  it  is  for  his  sins  that 
he  has  been  left  to  grope  his  way  to  the  grave, 
which  cannot  be  darker  than  the  sightless  sep- 
ulchre in  which  his  soul  is  already  buried. 

And  there  he  sits  in  such  a  case,  feeling  his 
way  by  the  wall,  as  he  comes  every  morning, 


178  WALKS   AND   HOMES. 

depending  on  others  to  tell  him  when  it  is 
night,  uncertain  whether  his  wretched  condi- 
tion, and  his  supplicating  cry,  will  stir  enough 
of  pity  in  the  passing  traveler,  to  secure  him 
the  means  of  prolonging  his  miserable  life. 
Many  pass  without  bestowing  on  him  the  piti- 
ful boon  of  a  morsel  of  food  or  a  word  of  kind- 
ness. Many  times  the  only  alleviation  wdiich 
he  obtains  from  the  proud  priest  and  the 
prouder  Pharisee,  is  the  severe  and  self-right- 
eous assertion,  that  it  becomes  not  man  to  bless 
wdth  charity  one  whom  God  has  cursed  for  his 
sins.  Many  times  the  idle  vagabond,  as 
wretched  as  himself,  in  everything  but  blind- 
ness, pauses  a  moment  in  passing  to  make 
mirth  of  his  misery. 

And  so  he  must  be  looked  upon  by  others, 
and  he  must  look  upon  himself,  while  life  lasts, 
as  a  living  monument  of  heaven's  vengeance 
on  all  transgressors  of  its  sacred  laws ;  himself 
a  more  pitiable  and  afflicting  desolation  than 
the  blasted  plain  of  Sodom,  towards  which  the 
swift  Jordan  flows  within  sight  of  his  native 
city.  There  is  no  power  in  the  touch  or  the 
skill  of  the  physician,  to  restore  to  his  dark- 


JERICHO.  179 

eiied  eye-balls  their  lost  sensibilit}^  to  heaven's 
light.  Xo  human  hand  can  draw  back  the 
thick  veil  with  which  blindness  has  covered 
the  universe  to  him  as  with  the  pall  of  death. 

And  yet  within  the  last  two  years,  from  time 
to  time,  a  most  strange  and  exciting  report  has 
come  to  his  ears.  Occasionally  some  one 
passer-by,  more  kindly  and  commiserating 
than  the  rest,  has  j^aused  by  his  side,  and  in 
addition  to  his  trifling  gift,  has  delayed  to  tell 
him  of  One  possessing  the  power  to  open  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  with  a  single  word.  He 
hears  that  that  wonderful  personage  is  ever 
going  from  city  to  city,  in  other  portions  of 
Judea,  performing  such  miraculous  cures  for 
the  afflicted,  and  even  raising  the  dead  to  life. 
Of  late  the  fame  of  his  mighty  works  has  come 
nearer,  and  has  been  accredited  by  more  nu- 
merous witnesses.  And  blind  Bartimssus^  ever 
sitting  by  the  way-side,  begging,  has  even  be- 
gun to  hope  that  the  Friend  of  the  friendless 
might  some  day  pass  in  or  out  at  the  gate  of 
Jericho,  and  in  passing,  graciously  pour  the 
light  of  day  again  on  him. 

Often  has  he  thought  that  he  would  gladly 


180  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

travel  to  the  utmost  boundary  of  Palestine,  if 
he  could  thus  secure  the  opportunity,  for  one 
moment,  to  lift  up  his  supplicating  cry  for  help 
within  the  hearing  of  the  divine  Deliverer. 
All  the  riches  in  the  world  would  be  as  nothing 
to  him  in  comparison  with  one  Avord  of  healing- 
power  from  that  mighty  and  merciful  friend  of 
the  needy.  He  begins  to  suspect  that  this 
extraordinary  person  may  be  the  promised  Son 
of  David,  the  Deliverer  of  Israel,  of  whom  the 
Prophet  spoke ;  and  what  interests  him  still 
more,  he  is  said  to  be  the  Friend  of  sinners  ; 
he  seeks  the  guilty  and  the  outcast ;  he  speaks 
to  them  with  words  of  kindness  and  encourage- 
ment, and  freely  displays  his  miraculous  power 
in  their  behalf. 

Be  it  so,  then,  as  he  has  been  often  told,  that 
his  blindness  is  the  curse  of  God  on  him  for 
his  sins ;  still,  in  the  Friend  of  sinners  he 
might  venture  to  hope.  He  would  not  be 
spurned  by  one  who  cleansed  the  loathsome 
leper  of  an  uncleanness  which  corru23ted  the 
body,  because  it  had  first  polluted  the  soul. 
He  would  not  be  scorned  by  one  who  cast  out 
the  foul  spirit  from  those  who  had  been  pos- 


JKKICHO.  181 

sessed  by  the  demons  of  darkness  for  their 
wickedness.  He  who  never  shrunk  from  con- 
tact with  the  vilest,  if  by  approaching  them  he 
could  do  them  good — surely  he  would  not  say 
of  blind  Bartimieus,  "  Behold  one  cursed  of 
God  for  his  sins,"  and  shaking  his  garments, 
pass  on  his  way  more  rapidly  to  avoid  the 
sight  and  the  touch  of  such  pollution. 

And  yet,  often  as  he  has  listened  with  eager 
attention  to  the  tales  told  him,  by  delaying 
travelers,  of  the  mighty  works  done  by  Jesus 
of  JN'azareth,  he  has  only  thus  learned  the  more 
bitterly  and  hopelessly  to  deplore  his  still  con- 
tinued blindness.  He  has  long  listened  in  vain 
for  any  announcement  from  the  passing  multi- 
tude that  Jesus  is  among  them.  He  has  no 
kind  friend  to  take  him  by  the  hand,  and  lead 
him  away  to  those  favored  portions  of  Judea, 
where  the  Friend  of  sinners  may  be  found 
ready  to  heal  the  humblest  applicant  for  his 
aid.  He  can  do  naught  but  sit  here  by  the 
gate  of  Jericho  with  the  feeble  and  uncertain 
hope  that  perchance  the  Prophet  of  ^N'azareth 
may  pass  that  way  and  have  compassion  on 
him. 

16  • 


182  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

And  so  it  comes  to  pass  at  last  tliat  on  a  cer- 
tain day,  blind  Bartim?eus  hears  the  sound  of 
an  unusual  multitude  and  the  murmur  of  many 
voices  pressing  along  the  public  way,  and  com- 
ing near  the  gate  of  the  city  where  he  sits. 
And  when  he  inquires  the  meaning  of  the 
strange  sound,  he  is  told  that  "  Jesus  of  iN'aza- 
reth  passeth  by."  Kow,  then,  at  last  has  come 
his  first,  it  may  be  his  last  opportunity  to 
recover  his  lost  sight,  ^ow,  if  ever,  must  the 
pall  of  darkness  be  lifted  from  him,  and  he 
shall  behold  again  the  magnificence  of  the  blue 
heavens,  and  the  beauty  of  the  green  earth, 
and  he  shall  read  again  in  the  silent  looks  of 
the  human  face  the  unutterable  things  of  the 
soul. 

How  priceless  the  value  of  the  single  oppor- 
tunity presented  to  the  blind  Bartimseus  by  the 
passing  of  Jesus  of  JN'azareth  this  one  day. 
The  mighty  Helper  of  the  needy  is  within  hear- 
ing but  a  few  moments,  and  when  gone  may 
never  return  again.  IIcjw  much  deeper  will  be 
the  darkness  of  future  years  to  the  blind,  if 
he  shall  have  it  to  remember  that  once  his  eyes 
might  have  been  opened,  but  he  failed  to  ask. 


JERICHO.  183 

And  yet  it  may  cost  soinetliing  to  gain  a  gift 
which  may  be  had  for  asking.  This  man  has 
been  named  and  pointed  at  Avith  horror  by  the 
most  religious  of  his  countrymen  as  accursed  of 
God.  And  shall  he  presume  that  the  holy 
prophet  of  JVazareth  will  be  more  indulgent  to- 
wards his  sins  than  his  friends  and  neio-hbors? 
May  it  not  be  that  the  reports  which  have  come 
to  his  ears,  concerning  the  healing  power  of 
Jesus,  are  all  exaggerations?  If  he  asks  so 
strange  a  thing  as  that  his  eyes  may  be  opened, 
will  it  not  expose  him  to  the  mockery  of  the  mul- 
titude, and  so  deprive  him  of  the  meagre  support 
which  comes  from  their  pity  and  charity? 
Were  it  not  wiser  to  improve  this  02)portunity, 
only  to  make  more  careful  inquiry  concerning 
Jesus,  and  if  satisfactory  evidence  of  his  divine 
power  and  benignity  should  be  secured,  be 
prepared  at  another  time  to  seek  his  aid  ? 
The  most  learned  and  religious  of  his  country- 
men have  said  that  this  Jesus  is  a  deceiver  and 
a  fanatic.  If  he  should  ask  the  performance 
of  a  miraculous  work  from  such  an  one,  would 
he  not  renounce  faith  in  God,  and  bring  on 
himself  a  worse  evil  than  blindness  ? 


184  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

Thus,  a  cautious  and  distrustful  man  might 
easily  have  spent,  in  hesitancy  or  considera- 
tion, the  few  moments  while  Jesus  was  passing, 
and  so  lost  forever  an  opportunity,  which, 
Avhen  gone,  he  would  give  everything  in  the 
world  to  gain  once  more.  There  is  no  madness 
like  that  which  pauses  to  reason,  when  the  des- 
tiny of  the  soul  depends  upon  immediate  and 
decisive  action. 

But  blind  Bartimaeus,  at  the  gate  of  Jericho, 
is  guilty  of  no  such  considerate  folly  as  this. 
He  wastes  no  time  in  studying  proprieties  of 
speech  or  attitudes  of  supplication.  It  is 
enough  for  him  to  know  that  Jesus  of  Xazareth 
passeth  by.  He  asks  only  for  such  help  as  can 
be  given  to  the  guilty,  for  he  asks  for  mercy. 
He  assumes,  safely  and  unhesitatingly,  that  the 
mercy  of  Jesus  will  be  enough  for  him.  And 
he  lifts  up  his  cry  with  a  determination  that 
will  not  be  put  to  silence  by  the  rebukes  of  the 
multitude,  or  the  apparent  inattention  of  Jesus 
himself. 

When  told,  at  last,  that  Jesus  stojDS  in  the 
way  and  calls  him,  he  rises,  casts  aside  his 
garment,  that   he  may    be  the  freer   to   run, 


JERICHO.  185 

rushes  in  his  bliiulness  without  waiting  to  be 
led  in  the  direction  of  the  divine  Helj^er  whom 
he  cannot  see.  He  is  ready  to  risk  everything, 
only  to  hear  one  word  of  hope  from  that  voice 
which  can  speak  the  dead  to  life.  And  wdien 
told  to  name  the  act  of  mercv  which  he  would 
have  done  for  him,  he  shows  the  strength  of 
his  faith  by  asking  that  which  divine  power 
alone  can  do. 

And,  as  of  old,  there  was  needed  only  one 
omniiic  word,  and  light  sprang  into  being;  so 
Jesus  speaks  the  word  "see,"  and  blind  Bar- 
tima3us  receives  his  sight,  and  follows  him  in 
the  way,  praising  and  rejoicing.  That  one 
word  of  Jesus  rolls  back  the  darkness  with 
which  the  universe  had  been  covered  to  the 
blind,  and  creates  for  him  a  new  world  of  light 
and  life,  and  sui'passing  glory.  The  long  night 
of  years  is  past;  and  the  resplendent  noon  of 
recovered  sight  has  flashed  upon  him,  without 
waiting  for  the  slow  approaches  of  the  break- 
ing day. 

And  now^  he  sees,  not  simply  with  the  re- 
stored sensibility  of  the  bodily  eye,  but  witli 
"the  vision  and  facultv  divine"  of  faith  in  the 


16 


186  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

Sun  of  God.  The  restored  world  on  which  he 
now  looks  with  unutterable  joy,  is  to  him  not 
simply  the  one  which  lie  lost  with  the  loss  of 
sight.  In  the  ecstacy  of  his  new  joy  it  seems 
to  him  as  if  it  were  Paradise  restored.  The 
sunlight  rests  upon  it  with  a  glorious  and  lov- 
ing beauty,  as  if  it  Avere  the  smile  of  God  on 
pronouncing  his  new  creation  very  good,  and 
its  many  voices  sound,  to  the  recovered  blind 
man,  like  the  echo  of  that  one  word  of  Jesus 
by  which  his  eyes  were  opened.  The  power  of 
that  mighty  word  has  poured  light  upon  the 
soul  as  well  as  upon  the  eye;  the  infinite  love 
which  gave  it  utterance  has  set  up  its  throne  in 
his  heart,  and  made  him  a  new  creature  in  the 
image  of  God. 

He  can  now  find  nothing  but  mercy  in  the 
awful  affliction  which  he  had  been  taught  to 
regard  only  as  a  curse.  For  it  has  been  by  the 
blindness  of  the  e^^e  that  spiritual  light  has 
found  entrance  to  the  darker  chambers  of  the 
soul.  Were  he  now  to  lose  again,  beyond  re- 
covery, the  sight  of  the  bodily  eye,  still  so 
much  the  more  would  the  celestial  light  of  the 
divine  love  shine  inward  upon  the  soul,  and  he 


JERICHO.  187 

would  still  continue  to  live  in  a  new  spiritual 
creation,  illumined  all  over  Avith  heaven's  holy 
light.  And  all  this  blessed  experience  of  un- 
utterable joy,  this  deliverance  from  a  universe 
of  darkness  and  a  destiny  of  despair,  bestowed 
upon  one  poor  benighted  and  most  afflicted 
soul,  in  answer  to  his  iirst  believing  prayer 
unto  Him  who  is  the  light  of  the  world. 

We  see  no  more  the  face  of  the  Son  of  Man. 
'No  tidings  come  to  tell  us  of  his  mighty  works 
in  any  land.  No  curious  multitude  gather  to 
hear  him  in  desert  places,  or  in  the  busy 
streets.  No  voices  are  heard  by  the  way-side 
or  at  city  gates,  saying,  "Jesus  of  Nazareth 
passeth  by."  And  yet,  for  all  the  practical 
purposes  of  his  redeeming  work,  Christ  is  still 
in  the  world.  He  still  walks  unseen  through 
all  our  streets;  he  comes  on  the  message  of 
mercy  to  all  our  homes;  he  stands  ready  to 
breathe  his  loving  Spirit  into  every  heart.  He 
is  ever  passing  by  in  the  ministrations  of  his 
grace,  with  the  power  to  deliver  all  souls  from 
the  darkness  of  unbelief,  and  from  the  destiny 
of  despair.  The  deep  sense  of  need  which  no 
riches  of   the  earth  can  relieve;    the  sigh  of 


188  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

penitence  Avliich  never  finds  utterance  on  the 
lip;  tlie  longing  for  peace  which  the  world  can 
never  satisfy,  are  all  known  to  him.  By  such 
experiences,  he  puts  to  every  soul  the  question 
which  he  put  to  the  blind  at  the  gate  of  Jeri- 
cho, "What  wilt  thou  that  I  should  do  unto 
thee?" 

The  gospel  of  Jesus,  from  beginning  to  end, 
is  pervaded  with  the  one  distinctive  and  con- 
trolling idea, — help  for  the  needy,  light  for  the 
blind,  redemiDtion  for  the  lost.  And  Jesus 
himself  comes,  in  all  the  ministrations  of  his 
Spirit  and  his  word,  to  bring  this  freely  offered 
grace,  this  full  and  everlasting  salvation,  wdthin 
reach  of  every  soul.  Xo  human  tongue  can 
describe,  no  finite  mind  can  conceive  the  value 
of  one  opportunity  to  sit  where  Jesus  of  [N'aza- 
reth  passeth  by.  How  great  then  the  privi- 
lege of  those  to  whom  that  mighty  Helper 
comes,  morning,  evening,  and  at  noon  of  day, 
saying,  "What  wilt  thou  that  I  should  do  unto 
thee?" 

Along  all  the  highways  of  life,  there  are 
many  blind,  groping  for  the  lost  day,  and  find- 
ing it  not.     Blind  to  their  own  interest,  they 


JERICHO.  189 

gather  dust  with  their  busy  hands,  and  think 
themselves  rich.  Blind  to  their  own  danger, 
they  walk  upon  the  brink  of  perdition,  and 
think  it  safe.  Blind  to  their  own  happiness, 
they  lay  up  for  themselves  regret  and  sorrow, 
and  call  it  pleasure.  Blind  to  their  OAvn  con- 
duct, they  disown  and  dishonor  the  greatest 
Friend  they  have  in  the  universe,  and  say — 
we  mean  no  harm,  we  have  done  no  wrong. 
Blind  to  their  own  destiny,  they  live  for  earth 
and  time  alone,  and  leave  the  endless  future  to 
take  care  of  itself.  To  all  the  higher  interests 
of  the  soul,  to  all  the  blessed  and  glorious 
prospects  of  life  beyond  the  grave,  the  anxious, 
burdened,  gain-seeking  children  of  this  world, 
are  utterly  blind.  They  labor  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not ;  they  spend  their  money  for  that 
which  is  not  bread ;  thev  strive  in  vain  to  con- 
tent  themselves  with  pleasures  and  possessions 
which  must  perish  when  their  real  existence 
has  only  just  begun. 

To  them  in  such  a  condition,  Jesus  comes. 
He  offers  to  do  for  them  that  which  they  need 
most  to  have  done ;  to  bestow  on  them  a  bless- 
ino-  which  all  the  treasures  of  the  earth  would 


190  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

not  be  rich  eiiougli  to  buy  :  to  give  them  a 
peace  and  a  hope  Avhich  would  be  infinite  gain 
if  it  cost  them  the  toils  and  the  sufferings  of  a 
whole  life.  In  their  dark  and  unsatisfactory 
condition,  having  no  hope  and  without  God  in 
the  world,  they  seldom  think  how  often  Jesus 
of  Xazareth  passeth  by  ;  how  often  he  stands 
before  them  in  the  ways,  ready  to  pour  the 
light  of  heaven's  peace  and  joy  and  rest  into 
their  weary  souls.  jSTot  only  is  the  offer  of  his 
grace  constant  and  free ;  it  is  often  pressed 
upon  reason  with  arguments  of  mighty  power ; 
it  is  often  urged  home  uj^on  conscience  with 
the  solemnity  of  eternal  judgment  to  confirm 
the  appeal,  insomuch  that  one  must  be  utterly 
hardened  in  his  worldliness  and  unbelief  not 
to  cry  out  with  a  bursting  heart,  "Jesus,  Lord, 
have  mercy  on  me." 

Sometimes  he  touches  the  heart  with  a  new 
tenderness  to  the  appeals  of  his  own  word ; 
sometimes  he  quickens  the  feeling  of  obligation 
into  new  life ;  sometimes  he  burdens  the  soul 
with  the  utter  wretchedness  of  living  and  dy- 
ing without  a  Saviour ;  and  in  all  such  experi- 
ences,   he   comes    especially   nigh.     Whoever 


JERICHO.  191 

permits  such  a  tenderness  of  heart  to  the 
power  of  truth  to  subside  into  coklness  and  in- 
difference, commits  a  greater  wrong  against 
himself  than  he  would  if  he  should  decline  the 
oifer  of  the  highest  crown  o]i  earth. 

When  God's  afflicting  providence  darkens 
the  household  with  the  shadow  of  death,  and 
the  grave  takes  to  its  cold  bosom  one  that  was 
bound  to  the  living  with  the  strongest  bonds 
of  love,  then  the  suffering  Saviour  comes  with 
the  offer  of  his  own  divine  sympathy  to  heal 
the  deepest  sorrow,  and  to  make  the  sorest  be- 
reavement the  greatest  blessing.  Whoever, 
in  such  bereavement,  looks  only  to  man  for 
consolation,  or  plunges  into  the  vortex  of 
business  or  pleasure  to  dissipate  his  grief, 
turns  aw^ay  from  the  only  Friend  who  can  give 
peace  to  the  soul. 

When  disappointment  reveals  the  vanity  of 
all  earthly  things ;  when  the  fear  of  death 
passes  like  a  shadow  over  the  spirit;  when 
preparation  for  eternity  seems  for  the  moment 
the  first  and*  the  only  true  work  of  life,  then  is 
Jesus  of  iN'azcireth  passing  by;  then  is  the  door 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  thrown  open  for  the 


192  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

weary  to  enter  and  find  rest.  jSTobody  can  tell 
how  common  or  trifling  a  circumstance  the 
Divine  Spirit  may  employ  to  show  men  their 
need  of  redemption,  and  the  nearness  of  him 
who  alone  can  save. 

It  may  be  a  solitary  thought  that  takes  pos- 
session of  the  mind  in  a  wakeful  hour  at  mid- 
night ;  it  may  be  a  tone,  a  look,  a  word  sud- 
denly armed  with  a  mysterious  and  irresistible 
power  to  sway  the  heart  and  to  control  every 
feeling ;  it  may  be  the  repetition  of  an  argu- 
ment, a  warning,  a  cry  of  alarm  which  has 
been  heard  a  hundred  times  before  without 
eifect ;  it  may  be  the  remembrance  of  slighted 
counsel  faithfully  given  in  other  years,  or  the 
vivid  anticipation  of  an  hour  when  counsel  can 
no  longer  be  of  any  avail ;  any,  or  all  such 
circumstances,  and  a  thousand  others,  may  be 
the  voice  which  says,  "Jesus  of  IN'azareth  pass- 
eth  by."  To  have  been  draAvn  to  Christ  by  one 
such  inflilence  ;  to  have  had  one  clear,  strons; 
impression  of  his  nearness  and  willingness  to 
save,  is  a  blessing  of  more  value  than  all  the 
riches  and  pleasures  and  glories  of  earth  and 
time. 


JERICHO.  193 

And  shall  any  one  suffer  such  blessed  influ- 
ences to  come  and  go  as  if  they  were  trifles 
light  as  air  ?  Nay,  rather  let  all  to  Avhoni  the 
message  of  life  comes,  tenderly  cherish  every 
impression  from  any  source  which  deepens  the 
sense  of  need,  and  at  the  same  time  awakens 
the  conviction  that  Clirist  is  near  to  save. 

The  slightest  inclination  to  heed  the  high 
claims  of  religion,  to  lay  hold  on  the  offered 
inheritance  of  eternal  life,  is  too  sacred  and 
precious  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with  for  a 
moment.  jN"o  question  better  deserves  the 
attention  of  an  earnest  man  than  this  one, 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"  They  are 
only  voices  of  temptation  and  falsehood  which 
would  hush  that  inquiry  by  saying,  "  Why  so 
much  alarmed  ?  what  need  of  fear  when  there 
is  no  sign  of  danger  ?  Life  is  long,  the  plea- 
sures and  cares  of  the  present  are  enough,  with- 
out burdening  the  heart  with  anxiety  for  the 
future.  And,  besides,  the  Saviour  is  always 
near,  and  peace  wdth  God  can  better  be  made 
in  the  dying  hour." 

Many  such  voices  will  come  to  bid  the  anx- 
ious inquirer  "  hold  his  peace."     But  they  are 


194 


AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 


false.  They  never  satisfy.  They  can  never 
save.  They  can  be  listened  to  only  at  the  j^eril 
of  the  soul.  They  can  be  obeyed  only  at  the 
hazard  of  eternal  life.  If  it  were  the  last 
counsel  given  to  a  troubled,  sin-burdened  soul, 
upon  the  A^er}"  borders  of  the  eternal  world,  in 
full  view  of  the  account  which  the  livino;  and 
the  dying  must  give  to  God,  nothing  less  than 
this  could  be  said,  "Go  to  Jesus,  and  without 
delay.  Whoever  bids  you  hold  your  peace, 
whatever  hindrances  keep  you  back,  go  to 
Jesus,  and  without  delay." 


BETHANY. 


Betka?iy  tvas  }iigh  unto  Jerusalem^  abotit  fifteen  furl 07igs  off. 
And  he  ivent  out  of  the  city  into  Bethany  and  lodged  there.  Now 
a  certain  man  was  sick,  named  Lazarus,  of  Bethany,  the  town  of 
Mary  and  her  sister  Martha. — John  xi.  1-18:  Matt.  xxi.  17. 


VII. 

BETHANY 


HALF  hour's  walk  eastward  from  the 
wall  of  Jerusalem,  across  the  Kiclron 
valley,  past.Gethsemaue  and  over  the 
ridge  of  Olivet,  brings  one  to  Bethany.  All. 
the  way  the  eye  rests  upon  scenes  which  Jesus 
saw;  the  foot  treads  upon  ground  once  hallowed 

17  *  •  197 


198  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

by  the  blessed  feet  of  the  Son  of  God.  In  all 
his  visits  to  Jerusalem,  he  entered  the  city  in 
the  morning,  spent  the  day  in  works  of  in- 
struction and  mercy,  and  then  at  evening,  went 
out  to  find  a  congenial  home  for  the  night,  on 
the  mount  of  Olives.  Sometimes  he  rested  at 
the  house  of  a  friend,  among  the  orchards  and 
gardens  on  the  eastern  slope  facing  the  city. 
And  then  he  w^ould  often  spend  the  late  hours 
of  the  night  in  the  oj)en  air,  alone,  or  in  tender 
communion  with  his  favorite  disciples.  Some- 
times he  would  pass  over  the  ridge  to  the  east- 
ern descent,  to  find  a  ready  welcome  at  one  fa- 
vored house,  in  this  lonely  mountain  village 
of  Bethany. 

Here  he  was  more  completely  shut  out  from 
all  the  world.  The  steep  wall  of  the  moun- 
tain rose  up  between  him  and  the  city.  The 
wild  and  desolate  hamlet  itself  stood  upon  a 
rugged  platform  of  rock.  The  slopes  around 
were  faced  with  broad  ledges  of  naked  lime- 
stone, and  scattered  fragments  of  gray  rock,  in- 
terspersed here  and  there  with  silvery  olive 
and  dark  o-reen  fio--trees.  The  outlook  east- 
ward  was  through  a  narrow^  glen,  down  the 


BETHANY.  199 

dreary  and  dangerous  road  to  Jericho,  and  over 
the  desolate  wilderness  of  Judea,  and  across 
the  wild  gorge  of  the  Jordan,  with  the  rocky 
wall  of  the  mountains  of  Moab  beyond.  The 
little  village  was  crowded  close  u23on  the  side 
of  a  narrow  glen ;  an  intervening  ridge  cut  off 
the  view  of  the  top  of  Olivet  from  behind, 
and  beyond  there  was  not  a  sign  of  a  human 
dwelling  in  sight  in  any  direction. 

This  secluded  and  solitary  town  w^as  not 
known  to  history,  till  it  became  the  nightly 
resting-place  of  our  Lord;  but  it  was  so  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  closing  scenes  of 
his  earthly  life,  that  Bethany  shall  be  a  name 
of  peace  and  of  blessing,  long  as  the  Grospel 
lives  in  the  world.  Taking  the  inspired  re- 
cord for  our  guide,  let  us  retire  to  this  lonely 
mountain  village,  and  revive  the  sacred  memo- 
ries which  gather  around  the  home  where  Jesus 
came  as  a  welcome  guest. 

1.    THE    NAME. 

The  first  that  we  know  of  the  town,  it  is 
mentioned  as  the  home  of  the  family  that 
Jesus   loved;    and  to  this   day,  it  bears   the 


200  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

name  of  one  whom  Jesus  rciisecl  from  the  dead. 
Even  in  his  time,  the  sacred  historian  gave 
the  viUage  its  most  histing  and  honorable  dis- 
tinction, by  naming  it  from  the  single  house 
where  Jesus  lodged  at  night.  That  lonely 
rock-built  hamlet,  walled  in  by  the  mountain, 
and  looking  forever  upon  the  desert,  shall  have 
a  blessed  memorial  through  all  coming  ages, 
because  one  of  its  humble  homes  afforded  shel- 
ter and  hospitality  to  him  who  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  head. 

We  make  pilgrimages  to  the  birth-place  of 
heroes.  We  count  it  a  privilege  to  visit  the 
Avalks  and  groves  once  frequented  by  the  sages 
and  masters  in  the  world's  philosophy.  We 
look  with  awe  upon  the  sculptured  tomb  where 
the  dust  of  kings  and  conquerors  is  kej^t  with 
religious  veneration.  We  walk  in  silence  and 
deep  thought  over  the  tield  where  embattled 
nations  met  in  the  shock  of  arms,  and  the 
earthly  destiny  of  millions  was  determined  in 
a  day.  But  neither  sage,  nor  hero,  nor  king, 
nor  battle  could  confer  upon  any  place  such 
sacred  and  lasting  distinction  as  Bethany  re- 


BETHANY.  201 

ceived  from  the  house  where  Jesus  went  to  rest 
at  night. 

The  great  events  of  time  are  objects  of  inte- 
rest to  the  heavenly  host.  They  know,  better 
than  we  do,  the  scenes  of  earth  around  which 
cluster  the  most  sacred  and  awful  associations. 
As  they  pass  from  land  to  land  and  from 
nation  to  nation,  with  the  swiftness  of  light, 
upon  errands  of  judgment  and  of  mercy,  they 
learn  a  truer  geography  of  great  events  than 
is  ever  taught  in  earthly  schools.  But  we  can 
hardly  think  of  them  as  saying  to  each  other, 
"  In  such  a  town  was  born  the  conqueror  of 
nations,  whose  phalanx  swept  the  armies  of 
the  East  as  withered  leaves  are  swept  before 
the  storm ;  on  this  ruin-covered  hill  the  Caesars 
kept  their  imperial  state ;  beneath  yonder  dome 
rest  the  ashes  of  one,  the  thunder  of  whose  can- 
non echoed  from  the  Nile  to  the  Niemen,  to 
the  march,  of  whose  legions  all  Europe  trem- 
bled for  twenty  years." 

It  is  a  matter  of  far  deeper  interest  to  them, 
to  trace  the  earthly  steps  of  that  mighty  King 
who  veiled  the  glory  of  heaven  beneath  the 
garb  of  a  peasant  and  who  asked  entertain- 


202  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

ment  for  a  night  from  creatures  whom  his  own 
power  had  made.  In  their  better  judgment  of 
the  historic  past,  and  the  endless  future  in 
man's  destiny,  it  is  a  fact  of  more  fearful 
meaning,  that  a  certain  house  in  a  lonely 
mountain  village  received  the  Son  of  God  as 
a  familiar  and  welcome  guest. 

Christ  himself  has  gone  back  to  his  hea- 
venly throne.  But  his  spirit,  enshrined  and  in- 
carnate in  his  disciples,  walks  abroad  through 
all  the  earth,  and  hallows  for  them  the  lowliest 
habitations.  He  shares  the  cave,  the  hovel,  the 
dungeon,  with  those  who  suffer  for  his  sake,  and 
their  places  of  abode,  though  unwritten  in  the 
world's  geography,  are  inscribed  in  letters  of 
light  upon  the  enduring  records  of  heaven. 
The  inhabitants  of  other  worlds  shall  visit  the 
homes  where  the  disciples  of  Jesus  lived  and 
suffered  and  died  on  this  earth,  w^hen  the  pala- 
ces of  kings  and  the  monuments  of  heroes  are 
forgotten . 

There  is  many  a  miserable  garret,  many  a 
damp  cellar  in  the  great  city,  many  a  lonely 
cabin  in  the  open  country,  where  God's  mighty 
angels  are  daily  visitants,  because  the  Son  of 


BETHANY.  203 

God  has  been  there  before  them  to  bless  some 
poor,  suffering  disciple,  and  his  presence  has 
made  the  humble  abode  more  glorious  in  their 
estimate,  than  all  the  splendors  of  earthly 
state. 

Sometimes  the  princely  mansion  entertains 
the  divine  Guest  in  its  meanest  apartment, 
simply  because  some  poor,  tired  servant,  late 
at  night,  climbs  up  the  many-storied  stairs, 
and  before  lying  down  to  rest  consecrates  that 
narrow  chamber  with  fervent  and  grateful 
prayer.  That  great  house  is  visited  by  mes- 
sengers from  heaven,  just  because  its  humblest 
inmate  is  an  heir  of  salvation.  The  honored 
name  which  it  bears,  the  splendors  of  art 
with  which  it  is  adorned,  the  courtly  company 
with  which  it  is  thronged  would  have  no 
attraction  for  them,  if  they  did  not  find  there 
one  whom  Jesus  loves.  To  them  paintings 
and  sculpture  and  gorgeous  robes  and  flashing 
gems  are  but  dust  and  ashes ;  but  in  the  faith- 
ful life  of  the  lowliest  and  most  despised  ser- 
vant of  Christ,  they  see  the  dawn  of  endless 
glory  and  immortality.  And  the  name  of  this 
lonely  mountain  village  of  Bethany  shall  be 


204  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

kept  in  everlasting  and  grateful  remembrance, 
because  it  was  the  home  of  the  family  that 
Jesus  loved. 

2.    THE    GOOD    PART. 

The  first  visit  of  our  Lord  to  the  friendly 
house  in  Bethany,  brings  out  the  characters  of 
the  two  sisters,  Martha  and  Mary,  in  striking 
contrast  with  each  other.  He  had  come  in  from 
a  weary  walk  of  eight  hours,  up  the  steep, 
rugged  and  robber-haunted-road  fi'om  Jericho, 
It  was  the  time  for  the  great  multitude  of  pil- 
grims from  Galilee  to  pass  through  the  village 
on  their  way  to  Jerusalem  to  attend  the  feast 
of  the  Tabernacles.  The  house  was  thronged 
with  guests  coming  and  going  early  and  late. 
When  Jesus  and  his  disciples  appeared  weary 
and  exhausted  with  climbing  up  the  long, 
steep  ascent  of  the  mountain  path  from  the 
plain  of  the  Jordan,  the  little  family  must  have 
been  thrown  into  some  degree  of  excitement 
and  anxiety  in  answering  the  unusual  demands 
upon  their  hospitality. 

Martha  assumes  the  leading  part,  takes  the 
place  of  mistress   of  the  house,  and  is  quite 


BETHANY.  205 

beside  herself  with  hurry  and  solicitude  to 
provide  for  her  guests.  She  thinks  it  the  tirst 
duty  to  answer  the  physical  wants  of  her 
divine  Visitor,  and  then  she  may  rest  and 
delight  herself  with  listening  to  his  words. 
She  is  utterly  surprised  and  indignant  that  any 
one  of  her  family  should  expect  the  blessed 
Teacher  to  talk,  hungry,  weary  and  exhausted 
as  he  was,  wdth  eight  hours  of  hard  climbing 
up  the  steep  and  stony  path  from  Jericho. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mary,  perhaps  not  more 
sincerely  devoted  to  Jesus,  but  more  quiet  and 
contemplative  in  her  disposition,  forgets  every- 
thing else  in  her  desire  to  hear  all  that  he 
w^ould  say.  Leaving  the  domestic  prepara- 
tions to  the  care  of  her  sister,  she  steals 
quietly  into  the  apartment  where  the  guests 
were  gathered,  seats  herself  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus  and  listens  with  silent  rapture  to  his 
gracious  words.  While  there,  she  is  missed 
by  those  of  the  family  who  are  hurrying  to 
prepare  the  needed  entertainment  for  the  hun- 
gry guests.  The  anxious  and  excited  Martha 
suddenly  bursts  into  the  room  and  expresses, 
before  all  the  company,  her  surprise  and  dis- 

18 


206  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

pleasure  thcit  Jesus  himself  should  permit  or 
approve  such  desertion  of  domestic  duties. 
This  impulsive  and  unseemly  interruption 
drew  from  the  lips  of  Jesus  the  memorable 
words,  "  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and 
troubled  about  many  things ;  but  one  thing  is 
needful  and  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part, 
which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her." 

!N"ow  it  is  distinctly  said  in  the  sacred  narra- 
tive, that  Jesus  loved  each  member  of  this 
family.  The  gentle  and  loving  John,  who  was 
present  on  this  occasion,  gives  no  hint  that 
Martha  was  less  esteemed  than  Mary.  Jesus 
did  not  reprove  this  excellent  housekeeper  and 
hospitable  woman  for  the  part  of  work  and 
entertainment  which  she  had  generously  cho- 
sen, but  for  her  busy,  bustling  and  talkative 
anxiety  about  many  things  which  were  only 
made  worse  by  anxiety.  He  would  not  have 
her  distract  herself  and  family  to  hurry  the 
preparations,  or  to  load  the  table  with  ambi- 
tious abundance.  He  considered  the  unusual 
demands  that  were  made  upon  her  hospitality, 
by  the  arrival  of  so  many  weary  and  hungry 
guests,  and  he  would  have  her  take  time  to 


BETHANY.  207 

meet  the  demand  with   a  quiet  and  cheerful 
mind. 

The  good  part  which  Mary  had  chosen,  was 
not  simply  the  act  of  sitting  at  his  feet  and 
hearing  his  words,  but  the  longing  desire  to 
receive  w^hat  Christ  alone  could  give,  the 
words  of  eternal  life.  Martha  is  restless  and 
troubled  wath  her  endeavors  to  make  the 
entertainment  worthy  of  the  house  and  of  the 
Guest;  and  she  is  displeased  that  her  sister 
can  pause  in  the  midst  of  such  hurry  and 
excitement,  and  sit  down  quietly  to  hear  the 
words  of  Jesus. 

These  tAvo  sisters  of  Bethany  represent  two 
phases  of  Christian  character,  ever^^where 
springing  from  a  like  diversity  in  constitu- 
tional temperament.  Both  have  their  excel- 
lences within  certain  limits,  and  both  exhibit 
defects  when  their  ruling  disposition  is  pressed 
to  undue  extremes.  It  should  be  our  constant 
study  to  combine  the  calm  and  contemplative 
devotion  of  the  one,  with  the  energy  and  activ- 
ity of  the  other.  Great  energy  in  action  must . 
needs  be  accompanied  with  great  quietness  of 
spirit,  or  it  will  soon   exhaust  itself  in   inef- 


208  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

fectual  struggles,  and  leave  its  work  half  clone. 
If  we  would  grow  in  wisdom  and  in  useful- 
ness, we  must  cultivate  the  capacity  to  listen 
and  to  learn,  as  well  as  to  talk  and  to  teach. 
There  are  times  when  S2)eech  and  action  are 
the  first  duty ;  and  there  are  times  when 
silence  and  contemplation  are  the  most  excel- 
lent virtues.  The  tendency  of  the  present  day 
is  to  give  too  much  of  a  bustling  and  business 
aspect  to  our  religion,  and  to  neglect  that 
inner  spiritual  cultivation,  without  which  all 
outward  show  of  zeal  and  activity  rests  upon 
an  uncertain  foundation. 

The  demand  of  the  age  is  for  men  of  action. 
And  while  there  is  much  reason  in  that,  it 
would  be  better  if  there  were  a  greater  demand 
for  men  of  thought  and  devotion,  men  of  con- 
science and  faith.  The  two  qualities  should  go 
together.  The  dark  problems  of  the  age  will 
not  be  solved  without  much  hard  thinking  and 
profound  meditation.  The  most  urgent  work 
of  the  age  will  not  be  done  without  great 
physical  endurance  and  unconquercible  energy 
in  action.  The  world  needs  quiet  and  contem- 
plative Christians  like  gentle  Melancthon  and 


BETHANY.  209 

heavenly- mi uded  Leighton  and  mystic  Fene- 
lon  to  teach  tlie  lesson  of  repose  to  weary 
hearts,  and  to  lend  the  charm  of  quiet  and 
thoughtful  kindness  to  all  the  relations  of  pri- 
vate life.  The  world  needs  Christians  of  in- 
tense and  impassioned  natures  like  Augustine 
and  Edwards  and  Brainerd  to  fathom  the 
depths  of  their  own  spiritual  necessities  and 
to  tell  the  terrible  secrets  of  the  soul  in  words 
of  fire.  And  the  world  needs  sons  of  thunder, 
Christians  with  nerves  of  iron  and  faces  of 
adamant,  like  Luther  and  Knox  and  Cromwell, 
to  shake  the  nations  with  their  stormy  vehe- 
mence, and  to  beat  down  the  strongholds  of 
iniquity  with  words  that  strike  like  battle- 
axes. 

If  these  several  characters  cannot  be  com- 
bined in  one  person,  it  is  better  that  they  shall 
exist  separately  and  in  excess,  than  that  the 
world  shall  lose  the  services  of  either.  The 
quiet  and  passive  virtues  are  beautiful  and 
lovely  at  home,  but  they  lack  energy  and  dar- 
ing for  the  conquest  of  the  world.  The  rest- 
less   activity   and    courage    which   overturns 

thrones  and  assaults  iniquity  in  the  strong- 
is  ^ 


210  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

holds  of  its  power,  and  thunders  round  the 
earth  with  its  o-reat  heroisms  and  victories, 
lacks  the  quietude  and  thoughtfulness  requisite 
to  the  highest  spiritual  cultivation. 

And  we  must  not  bring  on  ourselves  the 
rebuke  of  the  Master  by  blaming  others, 
whose  line  of  duty  and  of  develoj^ement  is  dif- 
ferent from  our  own.  The  world  is  large 
enough  for  us  all  to  live  in,  and  it  has  work 
enough  for  us  all  to  do,  and  tasks  suited  to  the 
tastes  and  capacities  of  each  individual  with- 
out giving  any  one  occasion  to  say,  either  that 
he  can  do  nothing  or  that  his  is  the  only  Avay 
of  doing  anything.  All  diversities  of  the  one 
human  lot,  all  endowments  of  the  one  human 
mind,  all  denominations  of  the  one  Christian 
church,  have  suitable  and  honorable  work  to 
do,  and  it  should  be  the  ambition  of  all,  in 
tlieir  appropriate  sphere,  to  do  the  most  and 
the  best.  Wherever  we  may  see  others  led  by 
sincere  love  to  the  Master,  though  it  may  be  a 
different  path  from  our  own,  let  us  not  blame 
what  he  is  sure  to  bless.  Whether  they 
engage  in  great  public  enterprises  or  sit  in  con- 
templation   at    his    feet,    whether    they    keep 


BETHANY.  211 

themselves  much  before  the  world  or  court 
retirement  and  repose,  so  long  as  each  im- 
proves his  own  proper  gift,  let  us  concede  the 
liberty  of  judgment  to  all,  let  us  give  offence 
to  the  conscience  of  none. 

3.    THE    MEMORIAL. 

On  another  occasion,  our  Lord  received  a 
special  entertainment  at  Bethany,  provided  by 
the  same  friends  and  probably  in  the  same 
house,  in  grateful  commemoration  of  his  great 
miracle  in  raising  Lazarus  from  the  dead.  It 
was  only  six  days  before  his  crucifixion  and  he 
Avas  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  to  meet  the  great 
sacrifice  which  awaited  him  there.  At  this 
time  also  the  house  was  filled  with  guests,  and 
there  was  great  curiosity  to  see  the  man  who 
had  been  waked  to  life,  after  having  slept  the 
sleep  of  death  four  days.  While  they  were 
reclined  at  table,  Mary  took  a  pound  of  very 
precious  ointment,  and  anointed  the  feet  of 
Jesus  and  wiped  his  feet  with  the  hair  of  her 
head.  And  when  some  exclaimed  with  indig- 
nation against  such  a  costly  expression  of  de- 
votion,  Jesus   rebuked   their  complaints   with 


212  WALKS  a>:d  homes. 

these  memorable  words,  "  Yerily,  I  say  unto 
you,  wherever  this  gos]3el  shall  be  preached  in 
the  whole  w^orld,  there  shall  also  this,  that  this 
woman  hath  done,  be  told  for  a  memorial  of 
her." 

This  is  the  only  promise  of  the  kind  that 
Jesus  ever  made,  and  this  Mary  is  the  only 
woman  in  all  the  past,  with  respect  to  whom 
we  have  a  divine  assurance  that  her  fame  and 
the  influence  of  her  life  shall  fill  the  w^orld, 
and  endure  through  all  time.  When  Cleopatra 
of  Egypt,  and  Zenobia  of  Palmyra,  and  Cath- 
arine of  Russia  are  forgotten,  or  are  remem- 
bered only  to  be  pitied  and  despised,  Mary  of 
Bethany  shall  be  honored  with  loving  and 
grateful  devotion. 

Eighteen  hundred  years  have  passed  since 
this  promise  was  given,  and  already  the  name 
and  humble  service  of  this  retiring  woman 
have  become  known  to  a  greater  number  of 
persons  than  any  w^oman's  name  to  be  found  in 
all  profane  history.  The  brief  story  of  her 
life  has  been  read  and  heard  with  profound 
interest  by  countless  millions.  Her  affectinsr 
testimonial  of  love  to  Jesus  has  touched  the 


BETHANY.  213 

fountain  of  tears,  and  brouglit  millions  of 
offerings  to  the  poor  for  whom  the  wasteful 
parsimony  of  the  disciples  would  have  kept 
her  gift.  The  one  act  of  consecrating  and  sac- 
ramental devotion,  into  which  she  poured  her 
whole  weeping  and  passionate  soul  of  love, 
has  done  more  to  make  the  human  heart  a 
sanctuary  for  the  indwelling  of  holy  love,  than 
all  ever  done  by  the  -proud  daughters  of 
princes,  or  the  Avorshipped  stars  of  beauty  in 
imperial  courts. 

And  this  woman  of  Bethany  was  not  in  the 
least  indebted  to  riches,  or  rank,  or  personal 
accomplishments  for  the  blessed  memory  that 
crowns  and  beautifies  her  name  in  all  Chris- 
tian annals.  She  was  not  a  king's  daughter. 
She  had  not  learned  the  accomplishments  of 
refined  and  cultivated  society.  She  could  not 
boast  of  troops  of  admirers,  or  of  costly  pres- 
ents laid  at  her  feet.  The  artists  of  modern 
times,  in  painting  the  scene  in  Simon's  house 
at  Bethany,  have  indeed  adorned  the  grateful 
worshipper  at  Jesus'  feet  with  surpassing 
beauty.  But  the  sacred  historian  does  not  say 
that  she  was  beautiful.     We  are  left  to  infer 


214  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

the  contrary,  from  the  fact  that  she  lived  alone 
in  the  house  with  her  brother  and  sister  in  a 
land  where  the  lot  of  unmarried  women  was 
one  of  peculiar  neglect. 

She  had  no  thought  of  doing  anything  just 
to  make  herself  remembered,  bv  anointino-  the 
feet  of  Jesus.  She  had  not  seen  him  in  his 
glory.  She  did  not  know^  that  even  then 
legions  of  angels  were  ready  to  wait  on  their 
Lord.  She  saw  in  him  one  whom  the  world 
despised,  and  she  must  have  known  that  the 
rulers  of  her  people  w^ere  bent  upon  putting 
him  to  death.  And  it  was  just  because  she,  a 
timid  and  sensitive  woman,  braved  the  scorn 
of  the  world  and  the  rebuke  of  friends  in  her 
own  home,  to  declare  her  love  for  Jesus,  that 
she  obtained  for  herself  an  honorable  and 
blessed  memorial  which  shall  outlast  all  time. 
It  was  by  her  self-forgetting  devotion  to  one, 
whom  others  were  impatient  to  destroy,  that 
she  gained  for  herself  an  everlasting  name 
that  shall  not  be  cut  off. 

And  so,  evermore,  Christ  will  keep  the  good 
name  of  all  who  count  no  sacrifice  too  costly 
to  be  offered  upon  the  altar  of  faith  and  love 


BETIIANT.  215 

to  him.  Their  names  shall  be  ever  before 
him,  graven  upon  the  palms  of  his  hands  and 
precious  in  his  sight.  They  shall  be  remem- 
bered with  gratitude  when  the  selfish  are 
despised  and  the  proud  are  put  to  shame. 
The  grand  aim  and  purpose  of  life  is  most 
sure  to  be  gained  by  him  Avho  forgets  every- 
thing but  duty,  is  animated  by  nothing  but 
love.  To  be  happy  ourselves,  we  must  live  to 
make  others  haj^py.  To  have  all  the  good 
that  riches  can  buy,  we  must  give  all  we  have 
to  Christ. 

The  most  wretched  lot  in  the  world  may  be 
his,  who  is  furthest  removed  from  the  necessity 
to  toil  and  to  suffer.  Better  is  it  to  pour  out 
possessions,  talents  and  affections  in  grateful 
devotion  to  Christ,  and  in  that  way  seek  for 
happiness  here  and  glory  hereafter,  than  to 
expend  upon  self  everything  that  the  world 
can  give ;  and  then  go,  to  be  told  beyond  the 
grave,  "remember  that  thou  in  thy  lifetime 
hadst  thy  good  things." 

Every  day's  observation  proves  that  no 
advantage  of  birth,  or  condition,  or  talent,  or 
success   can    procure    happiness    even    in    this 


21G  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

life ;  no  afflictions  or  losses  can  take  away  the 
true  joy  of  living  which  comes  from  a  good 
conscience  and  a  heart  at  peace  with  God.  In 
the  sj^lendid  and  coveted  mansion  of  the  mil- 
lionaire, there  are  wounded  hearts  that  no 
medicine  of  the  physician  can  heal.  In  the 
gorgeously  furnished  apartments  of  princely 
homes,  there  are  sioliino-s  and  oroanino's  of 
spirit  to  which  no  hired  services  can  minis- 
ter relief.  You  may  recline  at  noonday  upon 
couches  where  kings  might  repose  amid  splen- 
dors befitting  their  royal  state ;  your  bed  at 
night  may  be  canopied  with  purple  and  silken 
draperies  wrought  with  all  the  costly  and 
graceful  devices  of  art,  and  yet  in  sleep  you 
may  find  no  rest,  and  in  waking  wish  that  life 
and  consciousness  had  never  come  back. 

In  the  gay  and  gorgeous  hall  at  midnight, 
wdiere  artificial  light  outflames  the  sun,  and 
voluptuous  music  intoxicates  and  maddens  the 
passions  of  earth,  may  be  seen  the  beautiful 
and  bright-robed,  radiant  with  smiles  and 
floating  like  birds  of  paradise  upon  the  mazes 
of  the  dance.  And  yet  they  may  carry  in 
their  own  bosoms,  beneath  the  blaze  of   gems 


BETHANY.  217 

and  the  flash  of  sparkling  eyes,  the  torture  of 
fires  tliat  die  not.  To  them,  the  soft  strain 
that  breathes  in  the  lull  of  voices  and  the 
pause  of  mirth  may  seem  like  the  wail  of  the 
pitying  spirits  of  heaven  over  souls  that  are 
lost.  Reposing  at  luxurious  ease  in  the  bril- 
liant carriage  which  flashes  along  the  street, 
and  attracts  the  admiring  gaze  of  all  behold- 
ers, may  be  seen  one  Avho  has  come  forth  from 
an  unhappy  home  at  mid-day,  calling  it  morn- 
ing, striving  to  lose  in  the  open  air,  the  tortur- 
ing burden  of  an  hour,  and  yet  returning  disap- 
pointed, with  the  burden  still  on  the  heart, 
wearied  without  exertion  and  wretched  without 
cause. 

And  yet  such  is  the  lot,  to  attain  which, 
millions  would  sacrifice  their  souls.  Such  is 
the  happiness  of  those  who  choose,  and  in 
judgment  rather  than  in  mercy,  are  permit- 
ted to  have  all  their  o-ood  thing-s  in  this  life- 
time.  And  the  opposite  extreme  of  want  and 
neglect,  is  just  as  full  of  envy  and  disap- 
pointment and  despair  to  those  who  think  hap- 
piness depends  upon  any  earthly  state,  and 
who  never  learn  to  live  by  faith  on  the  Son  of 

19 


218  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

God.  To  that  faith  belongs  the  greatest  victo- 
ries ever  gained  in  this  workl. 

In  his  floorless  cabin,  weary,  hungering  and 
cold,  the  simple-hearted  Christian  bondman 
laid  down  to  sleep  in  his  crib  of  straw.  He 
had  toiled  all  his  life  long  for  another's  gain, 
and  he  had  no  hope  that  he  should  ever  be 
anything  else  in  this  world  than  the  unpaid 
vassal  of  another's  will.  And  yet  the  trans- 
forming faith  of  that  poor  slave,  made  his 
lowly  cabin  a  holy  place  where  angels  de- 
lighted to  go,  on  messages  of  love  from  the 
throne  of  heaven.  Like  the  scouro-ed  and  im- 
prisoned  apostles  in  the  olden  time,  he  woke 
at  midnight  to  pray  and  sing  j^i'^ises  unto 
Jesus.  In  his  sleeping  and  in  his  waking 
hours,  he  dreamed  and  he  sung  of  a  kingdom 
that  shall  have  no  end  and  of  a  crown  that  he 
should  wear  when  the  fetters  of  bondage  Avere 
broken.  And  that  poor  slave,  with  such  lofty 
expectations,  was  richer  and  happier  than  all 
the  wealth  and  glory  of  nations  could  make 
him  without  the  hope  of  eternal  life. 

I  have  seen  an  a^-ed  Christian  woman  whose 
life  for  twenty  years  has  been  spent  in  darkness 


BETHANY.  219 

as  deep  as  the  blackest  midnight.  In  all  that 
time  she  had  not  been  cheered  in  her  desolation 
by  the  light  of  one  human  smile ;  she  had  not 
seen  a  flower  blossom,  nor  a  star  shine,  nor  a 
single  change  come  over  the  face  of  God's  beau- 
tiful earth.  Darkness  had  come  upon  the  whole 
visible  world  to  her,  and  had  shut  her  in  as 
wdth  an  impenetrable  wall  on  every  side,  and 
her  imprisoned  spirit  yearned  in  vain  to  find 
the  lost  day.  And  so  she  knew  that  she  must 
live  as  long  as  life  lasted,  with  no  hope  left 
save  that  her  Bible,  which  she  could  no  longer 
read,  was  still  true,  and  that  her  Saviour,  to 
whom  she  gave  the  love  of  her  youthful  heart 
long  3^ears  before,  would  be  with  her  in  all  her 
affliction.  The  grave  itself  could  not  be 
darker  than  the  living  tomb  in  which  the  soul 
was  already  buried.  She  must  go  at  the  sum- 
mons of  death  without  ever  seeing  the  face  of 
her  own  children,  only  hearing  their  voices 
biddino'  her  farewell  in  the  dark. 

And  yet  that  aged  sufferer,  with  blindness 
added  to  many  other  afflictions,  did  not  com- 
plain. The  cloud  that  had  veiled  the  bodily 
vision,  did  not  cast  a  shadow  upon  the  soul. 


220  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

When  I  endeavored  to  commiserate  her  un- 
haj)pY  condition  in  the  loss  of  sight,  she  said 
with  the  simplicity  of  a  child's  faith,  "  I  shall 
soon  see.  The  long  night  is  almost  gone,  and 
I  am  looking  for  the  dawn.  When  death 
opens  the  door,  I  shall  pass  from  this  dark 
prison  into  the  full  day."  As  I  visited  that 
aged  disciple  at  different  times  in  successive 
years,  I  always  left  her  humble  abode  with  the 
feeling  that  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and 
the  glory  of  them  all,  were  a  worthless  bauble 
compared  with  the  serene  and  quiet  faith  with 
which  she  leaned  upon  her  SaA^our's  support- 
ing hand,  and  pressed  on  under  the  heavy 
cloud  of  continual  night,  in  the  dark  pilgrim- 
age of  life,  without  murmuring  and  without 
fear. 

And  I  wish  it  Avere  not  so  hard  to  make 
others  believe  the  words,  wdien  I  say  that  a 
calm  and  obedient  trust  in  God  is  worth  as 
much  to  the  vouno-  the  healthful  and  the 
strong  in  their  prosperity  as  it  was  to  that 
blind  and  aged  woman  in  her  affliction.  I 
would  that  all  could  be  persuaded  to  walk  in 
the  light,  before  the  darkness  of  trouble  and 


BETH AX Y.  221 

sorrow  comes,  and  the  night  of  death  settles 
down  without  any  promise  of  returning  day. 

4.    A   GOOD   WORK    NEVER   LOST. 

The  "good  work,"  which  Mary  wrought 
upon  Jesus  at  Bethany  by  anointing  him  for 
his  burial  is  not  the  only  one  which  shall  live 
forever.  The  everlasting  memorial  of  her 
simple  faith,  kei3t  alive  and  tenderly  cherished 
in  a  wicked  world,  is  a  promise  that  no  act  of 
duty  shall  ever  be  forgotten  before  God,  or 
ever  lose  its  power  to  do  good.  Jesus  himself 
will  remember  and  reward  the  simplest  service, 
though  it  be  but  a  cup  of  cold  water  given  in 
his  name.  Every  purpose  and  every  effort  of 
right- doing  shall  have  its  record  in  the  book 
of  life,  and  its  influence  shall  be  kept  alive  to 
guide  and  to  bless,  to  instruct  and  to  save,  long 
as  the  world  shall  stand. 

The  light  of  Christian  example  and  Christian 
instruction  may  be  diminished  and  obstructed 
by  the  cloud  of  ignorance  and  unbelief,  but  it 
is  light  still,  and  it  can  never  be  put  out.  Evil 
has  indeed  thus  far  prevailed  over  good  to  a 
fearful  extent  in  this  world,  but  it  is  not  the 

19  * 


222  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

strongest  power,  it  sliall  not  always  conquer,  it 
shall  not  li^'e  ibrever.  Good  by  its  very  nature 
is  immortal.  God  will  no  more  suffer  it  to  die 
than  he  will  forget  the  work  of  his  own  hands 
or  forsake  the  soul  that  cries  to  him  for  help. 
The  humblest  and  poorest  of  the  disciples  of 
Jesus  can  start  waves  of  blessing  that  shall 
deepen  and  widen  and  flow  forever.  You  need 
not  know,  you  need  not  suspect  that  you  are  do- 
ing anything  great;  you  need  not  weary  yourself 
Avith  busy  anxieties  about  success.  You  have 
only  to  go  on  quietly,  faithfully,  doing  the  work 
which  God's  providence  assigns  you,  and  you 
may  be  sure  that  the  memorial  of  your  life 
will  be  written  in  the  book  of  heaven,  and 
there  will  be  redeemed  souls  in  the  tinal  day 
to  call  you  blessed. 

The  silent,  teachable,  trusting  look  witli 
which  Mary  watched  the  countenance  and 
caught  the  words  of  Jesus  is  still  preaching 
to  millions.  The  world  is  indeed  full  of 
hurry,  of  violence  and  of  conflict,  and  it  may 
seem  to  us  a  waste  of  breath  to  speak  gentle 
words  in  the  face  of  the  whirlwind  of  strife. 
And  yet  in  such  a  world  God  has  j^i'omised 


BETHANY.  223 

that  his  gentleness  shall  make  liis  people 
great;  b}"  suffering  they  shall  grow  strong;  by 
failure  they  shall  learn  success,  and  by  defeat 
they  shall  conquer. 

The  calmness  and  the  self-possession  of  a 
right  purpose  and  a  pure  heart  disarm  opposi- 
tion and  win  more  than  violence.  The  rudest 
nature,  that  would  hurl  back  threatening  and 
rebuke  Avitji  fiercer  words  of  wrath,  may  be 
mastered  and  melted  into  penitence  and  love 
by  a  single  look  like  that  which  Jesus  turned 
upon  Peter.  You  need  not  wait  for  great 
occasions,  you  need  not  ask  for  extraordinary 
abilities,  you  need  not  have  a  thought  what 
the  world  will  think  of  you ;  only  let  your 
daily  Wcilk  be  a  living  testimony  unto  Jesus, 
and  God  will  keep  that  testimony  in  the 
world,  widening  and  deepening  and  intensify- 
ing in  power,  long  as  the  Gospel  shall  be 
preached  for  the  salvation  of  men. 

Every  world  in  the  material  universe  is 
bound  to  every  other,  by  immutable  law,  and 
no  atom  is  ever  lost  from  the  immensity  of 
things  created.  The  circlet  of  waves  produced 
bv  the  fall  of  a  pebble  travels  to  the  uttermost 


224  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

parts  of  the  sea.  The  bh3w  that  I  strike  with 
my  hand  is  felt  around  the  earth  and  beyond 
the  stars.  Much  more  pervasive  and  enduring- 
are  those  moral  influences  that  form  the  char- 
acter and  fix  the  destiny  of  immortal  beings. 
Every  act  of  duty  starts  a  wave  of  light  and 
of  blessing  that  shall  roll  and  expand  for  end- 
less ages.  It  is  the  sceptic's  dismal  j^Mos- 
opliy  which  says,  "  The  good  that  men  do 
in  their  lives  is  interred  with  their  bones." 
In  the  service  of  Christ  effort  is  success  and  a 
right  pur]30se  is  victory,  and  no  faithful  laborer 
can  fail  to  find  many  among  the  host  of  the 
redeemed  to  call  him  blessed. 

Not  many  years  ago,  a  European  philoso- 
pher, unrolling  the  countless  bandages  of  an 
Egyptian  mummy,  found  a  few  grains  of 
wheat  in  the  black  and  withered  hand.  Curi- 
osity led  him  to  plant  the  kernels  in  the 
colder  soil  of  the  north.  The  germ  of  life 
which  had  been  imprisoned  three  thousand 
years  in  the  dark  charnel  of  death,  responded 
to  the  touch  of  warmth  and  moisture  and  light, 
and  shot  forth  the  green  stalk  and  matured  the 
ripened  grain.     And  now,  year  by  year,  broad 


BETHANY.  22o 

fields  sown  from  the  j^i'oduce  of  those  reAdved 
kernels  of  Egyptian  wheat  wave  their  rich 
harvests  beneath  the  autumnal  sun,  and  thou- 
sands of  lives  are  sustained  by  food,  the  fruit- 
ful germ  of  which  was  so  long  imprisoned  in 
the  house  of  death. 

And  so  the  laborer  in  any  department  of 
Christian  service,  by  precept  or  by  example, 
may  drop  the  seed-corn  of  the  divine  word 
into  the  cold,  dead  heart  of  the  Avorld,  and 
many  seasons  may  pass,  and  he  may  see  no 
signs  that  the  seed  sown  in  patience  and  in 
sorrow  will  ever  germinate  or  even  retain  its 
life.  He  may  go  on  year  after  year,  faithful 
though  despondent  and  sad  of  heart,  making 
ten  thousand  unrecognized,  unapplauded  efforts 
for  the  good  of  others,  and  at  last  he  may  go 
down  to  the  grave,  feeling  that  nothing  of  all 
that  he  has  done  will  live  after  him  to  bless  the 
world  or  to  cause  his  name  to  be  remembered 
with  gratitude 

And  yet  the  countless  years  of  heaven  alone 
may  be  sufficient  to  estimate  the  blessed  fruit 
springing  from  that  life  of  toil,  of  patience  and 
of  disappointment.     It  may  yet  be  found  that 


226  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

the  most  needed  and  successful  laborers  in 
God's  o-reat  ^inevard  of  tlie  world  were  they 
who  were  willing  to  toil  on  without  apparent 
or  applauded  success,  but  simply  because  they 
believed  that  no  right  purpose,  no  well-meant 
eifort  could  ever  fail  of  its  appropriate  result 
or  be  forgotten  before  God.  The  great  contest 
which  truth  is  waging  for  the  mastery  of  this 
world  continues  through  all  the  ages,  and  the 
delay  of  a  year  or  of  a  century  is  no  indication 
that  truth  has  lost  its  power,  or  that  the  divine 
purpose  is  defeated. 

Two  hundred  years  ago,  John  Flavel,  of 
Dartmouth,  in  England,  driven  out  of  his  pul- 
pit by  the  persecuting  Act  of  Uniformity,  was 
preaching  in  an  open  field.  With  his  wonted 
earnestness  and  aifectionate  fervor  of  address, 
he  spoke  of  the  dreadful  curse  resting  on  all 
who  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Among 
the  listeners  on  that  day  was  a  youth  of 'fifteen, 
who  heard  the  solemn  words  of  the  preacher, 
and  went  awav  as  thouo'h  he  heard  them  not. 
Some  of  noble  birth  and  of  hio-h  intellectual 
culture  were  so  deeply  afi*ected  that  they  fell 
senseless  upon  the  ground.     But  that  thought- 


JiETHANY.  227 

less  young  man  only  listened  and  looked  on  as 
if  he  were  a  disinterested  spectator.  Soon 
afterwards  he  began  a  roving  life  upon  the 
seas,  and  finally  settled  down  for  a  permanent 
home,  a  faithless  and  a  prayerless  man,  in 
America.  Meanwhile,  Flavel  continued  to 
preacli  the  gospel  which  he  loved,  amid  perse- 
cutions and  many  sorrows,  and  when  the  last 
joyful  summons  came,  he  went  home  to  God  in 
peace. 

And  eighty-five  years  passed  by,  from  that 
day  of  field-preaching  at  Dartmouth,  and  the 
boy  of  fifteen  was  now  a  man  of  a  hundred 
years  and  still  a  wanderer  from  Grod.  The 
quick  susceptibilities  of  youth  had  died  in  his 
old  and  guilty  heart  long  ago.  N^o  ordinary 
faith  could  have  believed  that  the  seed-corn  of 
divine  truth  planted  by  John  Flavel' s  preach- 
ing eighty-five  years  before,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ocean,  still  survived  and  was  destined  to 
spring  up  and  bear  fruit  unto  life  eternal. 
But  so  it  was.  It  chanced  on  a  certain  day 
that  he  found  himself  alone  in  an  open  field 
belonging  to  his  own  farm,  with  no  weeping- 
multitude  around  him  to  awaken  his  sympa- 


22S  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

tliies,  and  no  preacher's  solemn  voice  to  tell 
him  of  his  sin.  Moved,  he  knew  not  how,  that 
old  man,  in  his  hundredth  year,  passing  over 
all  the  intervening  space  of  time  felt  himself 
back  again  in  the  held  at  Dartmouth,  hearing 
the  fearful  words,  "  If  any  man  love  not  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  accursed."  And 
the  message  of  heaven,  which  the  thoughtless 
youth  so  easily  rejected,  was  mightier  when 
speaking  from  the  remembered  past  than  when 
heard  from  the  living  voice.  Then  first  the 
aged  sinner  found  strength  to  roll  the  burden 
of  the  threatened  curse  from  his  heart,  through 
the  exercise  of  penitent  and  trusting  love.  He 
lived  to  the  extraordinarv  ag;e  of  a  hundred  and 
sixteen  years,  believing  and  rejoicing  in  the 
Saviour,  whom,  for  a  century,  h^  had  rejected. 
And  the  awakening  call  of  duty,  which  roused 
him  from  the  sleep  of  impenitence  and  unbe- 
lief, came  from  the  remembered  words  of  one 
who  had  rested  from  his  labor  for  more  than 
half  a  century. 

Such  is  the  persistency  with  Avhich  the  truth 
retains  its  life  and  germinating  power,  even 
when    sown    in    the    uncono-enial    soil    of    the 


BETHANY.  229 

depraved  heart.  And  one  such  example  of 
eifort  apparently  lost,  living  and  working  for 
good  long  after  the  laborer  himself  has  forgot- 
ten his  work,  may  give  us  hope  and  encourage- 
ment as  we  sow  the  seed  of  life  beside  all 
waters,  morning,  evening  and  at  noon  of  day, 
withholding  not  our  hand. 

5.    THE    COMMON   LOT. 

If  a  home  on  earth  could  be  free  from  the 
anxiety,  the  suspense  and  the  silent  anguish 
of  waiting  on  the  sick  and  the  dying,  it  would 
seem  that  it  should  be  the  home  where  Jesus 
so  often  sought  refuge  from  the  cold  and 
contentious  world,  and  ever  found  sympathiz- 
ing friends  and  a  welcome  hospitality^  If  any 
family  on  earth  could  be  justified  in  feeling 
themselves  secure  for  a  time  against  the 
dreaded  visitation  of  death,  it  must  be  the  one 
towards  which  Jesus  was  drawn  by  ties  of  the 
deepest  and  most  constant  love. 

And  yet  the  great  woe  inflicted  upon  the 
whole  human  race  by  transgression  is  too  deep 
and  dreadful  to  spare  even  them.  The  one, 
all -pitiless    destroyer,    that    was     never     yet 

20 


230  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

restrained  from  his  work  by  the  revered  aspect 
of  age,  or  the  wail  of  helpless  infancy,  or  any 
degree  of  loveliness  in  human  character,  must 
not  spare  even  the  home  where  the  Son  of 
God  in  the  last  days  of  his  ministry  found  his 
only  rest.  There,  where  the  Comforter  of  all 
sorrows,  the  Healer  of  all  diseases,  the  Giver 
of  all  life,  so  often  went  to  repose  after  the 
weary  day  spent  in  the  narrow  and  noisy 
streets  of  Jerusalem — there  came  the  dread 
shadow  of  sore  affliction,  and  darkened  the 
light  of  the  window,  and  sat  down  unbidden 
at  the  daily  board,  and  lingered  in  the  quiet 
chamber,  and  would  not  be  persuaded  to  de- 
part, day  nor  night.  In  the  very  house  where 
Jesus  had  so  many  times  sat  at  meat  and 
cheered  all  hearts  with  words  and  looks  of 
love,  in  the  very  chamber  where  he  had  slept 
at  night  and  from  which  he  had  gone  forth  in 
the  morning,  leaving  the  blessing  of  peace 
behind  him,  there  must  be  the  silent  step 
which  waits  upon  the  suiferhig,  the  sympathiz- 
ing look  which  strives  in  vain  to  conceal  anxi- 
ety, and  the  suj^pressed  a  oice  which  whispers 
hope,  while  the  lieart  is  heavy  with  fear.     The 


BETHANY.  231 

very  one  upon  whom  the  fjiniily  must  be  most 
dependent  for  the  preservation  of  its  name, 
and  for  support  in  the  time  of  trial  and  adver- 
sity, is  smitten  down  by  relentless  disease. 

The  alarmed  and  sorrowing  sisters  watch  by 
night  and  by  day  the  growing  symptoms  of  a 
fjital  result,  and  they  exhaust  every  remedy  in 
the  vain  effort  to  sustain  the  sinking  powers  of 
life.  It  now  seems  to  avail  them  nothing  that 
Jesus  was  their  friend,  and  that  he  had  often 
shared  the  hospitality  of  the  family,  and  had 
given  them  many  tokens  of  affectionate  regard 
for  the  suffering  and  dying  brother.  They  are 
in  trouble,  and  are  anxiously  looking  for  any 
sign  of  hope  or  relief;  but  they  find  none,  and 
their  divine  Friend  is  far  away  be3^ond  Jordan, 
and  it  might  cost  him  his  life  if  he  should 
come  to  help  them.  The  quiet  home  towards 
which  Jesus  had  so  many  times  bent  his  foot- 
steps at  evening  and  where  his  presence  had 
filled  every  heart  with  peace  must  soon  be 
made  dark  with  mourning  and  death. 

And  such  is  still  the  lot  of  the  families 
which  Jesus  loves  in  all  the  earth.  There  are 
many  such,  and  he  has  long  been  with  them  in 


232  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

spirit,  a  frequent  and  a  familiar  guest.  At 
evening-tide,  in  the  night  watches,  and  when 
the  morning  brings  the  gladness  of  the  new 
day,  they  welcome  Jesus  to  their  homes  and  to 
their  hearts.  They  set  before  him  the  best  of 
all  they  have,  and  they  only  wish  they  could 
give  him  more,  and  that  he  would  make  his 
abode  with  them.  In  him,  they  see  the 
brightness  of  the  eternal  Father's  glory 
brought  so  near,  and  clothed  with  so  much  of 
human  kindness,  that  thev  reverently  call  him 
Brother,  and  trust  in  him  as  the  support  and 
guardian  of  the  household. 

And  yet  affliction  will  not  be  forbidden  to 
smite  such  families.  Death  will  not  be  com- 
manded to  spare  the  parent,  the  brother,  the 
sister  or  the  child  whom  Jesus  loves.  The 
very  Friend  in  whom  they  most  confide,  who 
is  himself  most  deeply  interested  in  their  wel- 
fare, and  who  can  do  all  things  for  them  in  the 
hour  of  need,  will  not  command  the  destroyer, 
in  his  goings  forth  through  this  sorrow-stricken 
world,  to  pass  by  their  dwelling  without  enter- 
ing. Infinitely  gracious  and  compassionate  as 
Jesus  is,  he  does  not  promise  to  turn  aside  the 


BETHANY.  233 

stroke  of  affliction,  even  from  those  who  walk 
most  closely  with  him  in  the  jomniey  of  life. 
He  is  willing  to  visit  the  most  wretched  home 
and  watch  with  the  suffering  in  the  darkest 
hour,  but  his  presence  will  not  dismiss  all  pain. 
Even  to  his  dearest  friends  he  still  says,  "  In 
this  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation."  When 
they  ask  for  a  home  where  there  shall  be  no 
more  sorrow,  he  points  to  the  gateway  of 
death. 

And,  besides,  the  great  sympathizing  High 
Priest  of  our  profession  has  taught  us,  by  his 
own  example,  how  great  and  godlike  it  is  to 
suffer  and  to  be  made  perfect  by  suffering. 
The  serene  and  blessed  heights  of  peace  and 
joy  are  attained  by  those  who  have  climbed 
the  rugged  steejDs  of  pain  and  toil.  God  sends 
the  sorest  chastisement  upon  his  most  beloved 
children,  that  they  may  be  made  white  in  the 
furnace  of  affliction,  and  be  presented  without 
spot  before  his  throne.  The  troubles  and  dis- 
quietudes of  this  earthly  life  will  prove  minis- 
ters of  mercy,  if  they  make  us  cling  to  our 
Father's  hand,  and  long  for  rest  in  our  Father's 
house.     The  sino-le  eve  of  faith  can  see  the  bow 

20  -^ 


234  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

of  promise  upon  the  darkest  cloud.  The  quick 
ear  of  obedience  and  affection  can  hear  the 
voice  of  love  amid  the  thunders  of  the  wildest 
storm. 

We  do  not  know  when,  or  under  what  cir- 
cumstances, the  journey  of  our  life  will  close, 
but  it  need  not  be  in  darkness  or  despair.  Some 
will  be  called  without  a  moment's  warning ; 
some  will  be  led  down  to  the  grave  slowdy, 
through  months  and  years  of  weariness  and 
pain ;  some  will  be  called  when  life  is  most 
dear,  and  all  its  pursuits  and  pleasures  charm 
them  most ;  and  some  will  stay  long  after 
trouble  and  disappointment  have  made  it  a 
weariness  to  live.  The  youngest  of  a  family 
may  be  taken  first.  The  strongest  and  most 
healthful  may  be  struck  down,  while  the  feeble 
must  wait  on  them  in  their  prostration  and 
mourn  for  them  when  they  are  gone.  One  who 
has  been  waiting  and  expecting  to  go  any  day 
for  years,  may  at  last  be  taken  by  surprise. 
One  may  be  called  when  his  plans  for  w^orldly 
business  are  mature,  and  in  the  most  successful 
operation  ;  another  when  all  his  earthly  affairs 
are  unsettled,  and  no  one  can  fill  his  place,  and 


BETHANY.  2So 

his  removal  will  cause  the  greatest  embarrass- 
ment to  his  clearest  friends ;  another  must  go 
to  the  house  appointed  for  all  the  living,  just 
as  he  has  completed  every  arrangement  to 
spend  his  declining  years  in  retirement  and 
peace.  One  may  toil  for  years  in  patience  and 
poverty  and  disappointment,  and  when  at  last 
the  hour  of  success  comes,  he  must  leave  it  for 
others  to  enjoy ;  another  may  have  little  of 
struggle  or  conflict,  less  of  failure  or  disap- 
pointment, and  yet  he  too  just  as  certainly 
must  die. 

Such  are  the  inevitable  conditions  of  this 
earthly  life.  The  gospel  tells  the  affecting  story 
of  affliction  and  death  coming  upon  the  family 
that  Jesus  most  tenderly  loved,  as  if  to  assure 
us,  in  the  most  touching  manner,  that  it  is  the 
portion,  even  of  the  accepted  children  of  God, 
in  this  world  to  suffer  and  to  die.  There  is 
nothing  left  for  us  to  do,  if  we  Avould  be  wise, 
but  to  conform  our  earthly  plans  to  the  common 
lot,  and  to  cherish  hopes  for  the  endless  future, 
such  as  affliction  and  death  cannot  destroy. 


236  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

6.    THE    MESSAGE. 

When  the  fatal  sickness  fell  npon  Lazarus 
at  Bethany,  his  alarmed  and  afflicted  sisters 
sent  and  told  Jesus.  They  were  in  trouble, 
and  they  had  reason  to  fear  the  worst,  but  it 
was  a  calm  and  confiding  message  that  they 
sent.  "  Lord,  behold  he  whom  thou  lovest  is 
sick."  The  bearer  of  the  heavy  tidings  must 
make  his  way  down  the  steep  and  rocky  path 
to  Jericho,  and  across  the  Jordan,  to  the  desert 
place  where  Jesus  had  retired  with  his  disci- 
ples. The  going  and  returning  must  be  a 
journey  of  days.  And  yet  there  is  no  sign  of 
hurry  or  impatience  in  the  message  Avbich  the 
sisters  sent.  They  safely  presumed  that  the 
love  of  Jesus  for  their  dying  brother,  would 
prompt  him  to  do  all  that  their  own  love  could 
desire  to  have  done.  It  was  enough  for  them 
that  Jesus  should  know  that  Lazarus  was 
sick. 

I  remember  well  myself  to  have  been  sent, 
when  a  child,  as  the  bearer  of  heavy  tidings  to 
a  family  living  some  miles  distant.  And  I  was 
instructed  only  to  sav  to  an  afflicted  sister,  that 


BETHANY.  237 

lier  brother  was  dead.  In  that  case  too  it  was 
taken  for  granted,  that  a  sincere  affection  for 
the  afflicted  family  woukl  dictate  whatever 
were  best  to  be  done.  I  was  not  tokl  to  ask  the 
friends  at  a  distance  to  come  to  tliose  upon 
whom  the  heavy  stroke  had  fallen,  but  only  to 
say  that  death  had  entered  the  household.  It 
was  not  for  a  moment  supposed  that  such  a 
message  could  be  received  with  indifference. 

Such  confidence  had  the  afflicted  sisters  at 
Bethany,  in  the  warmth  and  sincerity  of 
Christ's  love  for  them,  and  for  their  dying- 
brother.  And  it  was  therefore  the  most  natu- 
ral thing  in  the  world  that  they  should  send  so 
brief  and  simple  a  message  to  him,  when  they 
were  so  greatly  afflicted :  "  Behold,  he  whom 
thou  lovest  is  sick." 

Our  risen  and  glorified  Lord  is  as  worthy 
of  our  confidence,  now  that  he  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  heaven,  as  he  was  when  he  came  a 
homeless  wanderer,  to  be  entertained  at  the 
friendly  house  in  Bethany.  And  our  faith  in 
the  reality  of  his  love  should  not  fail  us,  when 
sickness  darkens  the  light  of  our  homes,  and 
death  enters  the  household.     First  of  all  in  the 


238  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

day  of  our  affliction,  we  slioulcl  fly  upon  tlie 
swift  wings  of  prayer  to  tell  the  tidings  of  our 
trouble  unto  Jesus.  JN'othing  that  touches  our 
hearts  with  joy  or  grief,  is  too  trifling  to  be 
told  to  him.  The  greatest  sorrow  shall  be 
easily  borne  with  such  help  as  he  can  give. 
Our  greatest  Friend  will  have  a  right  to  feel 
himself  wronged,  if  we  pour  out  our  grief  to 
others,  and  shut  our  hearts  to  him. 

For  the  great  sorrows  of  life,  there  is  little 
alleviation,  there  is  no  absolute  cure,  save  that 
which  the  comino-  of  Jesus  brino-s  to  the  wearv 
heart.  If  we  seek  the  help  of  Jesus  first,  we 
shall  spare  ourselves  much  disappointment  in 
looking  to  others  for  consolation.  When  those, 
who  have  exhausted  every  other  resource  in 
vain,  are  constrained  at  last  to  look  to  Jesus 
for  rest,  they  are  filled  with  surprise  and  joy, 
to  find  that  the  best  and  greatest  Friend,  was 
all  the  while  knocking  at  the  door  and  waiting 
to  be  admitted. 

The  little  child  runs  to  the  mother  with  the 
tale  of  every  joy  and  every  sorrow.  And  when 
we  become  like  children  in  faith,  and  so  are 
fitted  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  we  shall  as 


BETHANY.  239 

naturally  go  to  our  Father  with  all  our  griefs 
and  all  our  joys.  The  cares  and  toils  of  vvdiich 
we  speak  to  our  human  friends,  will  still  be 
named  with  open  and  reverent  hearts,  when 
we  come  to  our  Father  in  prayer.  It  is  due 
to  our  best  Friend  that  we  shall  never  doubt 
the  reality  of  his  love.  He  does  not  need  to  be 
importuned  into  an  interest  in  our  welfare. 
The  very  trial  that  tasks  our  faith  most  se- 
verely, and  makes  it  seem  to  us  that  he  has 
forsaken  us,  has  been  sent  in  mercy  to  give  us 
more  peace  and  confidence  in  him  when  the 
trial  is  past.  The  whole  earthly  life  of  Jesus 
is  an  infinite  demonstration  of  the  depth  of  his 
love  for  the  helpless  and  the  unworthy.  Against 
all  the  suggestions  of  unbelief,  against  all  the 
discouragements  that  arise  from  new  discoveries 
of  our  need,  w^e  have  this  one  assurance, — 
"  While  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for 
us."  Surely  we  cannot  come  to  such  a  Friend 
too  often,  we  cannot  speak  too  plainly  or  too 
confidingly  to  him,  of  anything  that  gives  us 
grief  or  trouble  or  joy. 


240  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

7.    THE    SUSPENSE. 

When  the  message  came  from  the  sisters  at 
Bethany  to  Jesus  at  Bethabara,  he  replied  im- 
mediately,— "This  sickness  is  not  unto  death." 
The  messenger  returned  with  joy,  hurrying 
along  the  steep  and  stony  track  of  the  moun- 
tain road,  impatient  to  relieve  the  anxious 
household  with  the  glad  intelligence  that  the 
beloved  brother  should  not  die.  What  must 
have  been  his  surprise  and  confusion,  on  reach- 
ing the  house,  to  find  that  Lazarus  Avas  already 
in  his  grave.  How  much  it  would  add  to  the 
grief  and  perplexity  of  the  bereaved  sisters 
when  he  should  tell  them  wdiat  Jesus  had  said. 
How  sorely  would  it  task  their  confidence  in 
the  truth,  the  wisdom,  and  the  love  of  their 
greatest  and  best  Friend,  to  have  word  brought 
from  him,  that  their  brother  should  not  die,  on 
the  very  evening  of  the  day  when  they  had 
followed  the  cold  and  lifeless  body  to  the  tomb. 

"  Had  Jesus  sent  that  word  in  mistaken  kind- 
ness to  keep  their  hearts  from  despondency, 
while  as  yet  himself  did  not  know  what  the 
end  would  be  ?     Was  he  experimenting  with 


BETHANY.  241 

the  power  of  hope  to  sustain  the  siiifering  and 
to  shake  off  the  grasp  of  disease  ?  Had  Jesus 
promised  what  he  coukl  not  perform?  Had 
his  great  power  forsaken  him,  and  must  those 
who  had  looked  to  him  for  miraculous  aid,  at 
last  confess  that  he  had  become  as  weak  as 
they?  Had  he  given  the  positive  assurance 
of  recovery  to  his  dearest  friend,  the  very  day 
that  others  had  carried  that  friend  in  sorrow  to 
the  grave?  Had  Jesus  designedly  staid  in 
distant  Bethabara  to  save  himself  from  wit- 
nessing a  scene  of  suffering  which  he  could  not 
relieve?  Had  he  refused  to  come  back  with 
the  messenger,  that  he  might  avoid  the  distrust 
and  reproaches  of  those  who  once  confided  in 
his  power  to  heal  all  manner  of  disease?" 

Such  doubts  and  fears  must  have  tried  the 
hearts  of  the  afflicted  sisters  of  Bethany,  dur- 
ing the  four  dark  days  of  mourning,  more 
severely  than  the  actual  death  of  their  brother. 
They  had  always  known  that  Lazarus  and 
themselves  also  must  sooner  or  later  die,  but 
they  had  hoped  that  the  word  of  Jesus  would 
never  fail.  If  he  had  only  staid  where  he  was, 
after    receivino-    tidino-s     of    their    affliction, 


242  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

they  could  have  understood  that;  for  they 
knew  that  it  woukl  be  at  the  peri]  of  his  life, 
if  he  came  to  them.  But  how  must  it  have 
wrung  their  hearts  with  anguish,  to  think  of 
their  brother  sleeping  in  the  cold  tomb,  and  at 
the  same  time  of  the  strange  and  apj)arently 
mistaken  word  of  Jesus,  "  This  sickness  is  not 
unto  death." 

So  is  it  with  us  all  in  the  dark  days  of  afflic- 
tion and  despondency.  The  cloud  casts  its 
thick  shadows  all  around  us ;  our  hopes  fail ; 
our  hearts  are  weary,  and  life  is  a  burden. 
But  if  Ave  walk  trustingly  on  in  the  darkness, 
till  we  learn  the  great  lesson  .of  faith,  Jesus 
himself  will  take  us  by  the  hand  and  lead  us 
forth  to  the  light,  and  Ave  shall  see  his  face  in 
a  broader  and  brighter  day.  In  the  revieAV 
of  the  past  Ave  shall  learn  that  our  infinite 
Helper  Avas  by  our  side  and  bending  over  us 
with  unutterable  loA^e  Avhen  Ave  Avere  j^rostrate 
and  thought  ourselves  utterly  forsaken.  We 
ncA^er  see  him  as  he  sees  us.  We  are  ncA^er  as 
ready  to  receive  his  help,  as  he  is  to  relieve 
our  need.  We  have  attained  the  highest  joy 
of  life  when  Ave  have  learned  to  take  Avhat  God 


BETHANY.  243 

gives  with  a  grateful  heart,  and  to  live  for  his 
glory  equally  in  sickness  and  in  health,  in 
abundance  and  in  want.  The  Son  of  God  is 
glorified,  the  Avord  of  peace  is  preached  to  the 
world,  by  all  who  suifer  wdth  Christ  in  patience 
and  in  hoj^e.  The  days  and  nights  of  w^eari- 
ness  and  pain  are  precious  to  those  who  walk 
the  fiery  furnace  of  affliction  in  company  with 
the  Son  of  man. 

8.    THE    RELIEF. 

Two  days  after  the  sad  news  came  from 
Bethany,  Jesus  told  the  disciples  what  had  be- 
fallen the  family  of  his  friend,  and  proposed 
to  go  and  comfort  them  in  their  affliction.  He 
would  not  delay  too  long,  lest  the  trial  of  their 
faith  might  end  in  unbelief  and  despair.  He 
Avould  not  go  too  soon,  lest  he  should  deprive 
them  of  the  best  opportunity  to  behold  his 
glory  in  his  power  over  death.  However 
perilous  it  might  be  to  his  own  life,  he  w^ould 
not  refuse  to  go  at  the  call  of  those  wdio  had 
received  him  at  their  own  house,  and  afibrded 
him  a  quiet  and  safe  retreat  from  the  conten- 
tious and  cavillino-  world. 


244  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

To  all  who  have  welcomed  liim  to  their 
homes  and  their  hearts,  in  the  days  of  health 
and  j)rosperit3^,  he  will  come  with  the  blessing 
of  peace  and  consolation,  when  sorrow  darkens 
around  them,  and  death  enters  the  household. 
He  comes  to  all  even  now  in  meekness  and  in 
lowliness,  willing  to  dwell  in  the  humblest 
home,  able  to  cheer  the  saddest  heart.  He 
stands  long  at  many  a  door,  waiting  for  admis- 
sion. He  suffers  the  indignity  of  delay  and 
rejection,  only  that  he  may  Avin  his  way  to  the 
heart  by  kindness  and  be  received  as  a  friend. 

It  may  be  easy  for  many  to  reject  him  in  the 
day  of  their  pride  and  prosperity.  But  even 
the  prayerless  and  the  profane  will  call  for  the 
ministers  and  disciples  of  Jesus  when  the  liand 
of  death  is  upon  them.  How  much  better  it 
were  for  them  to  receive  Jesus  himself  as  a 
constant  and  familiar  friend  when  the  heart  is 
glad  and  the  cup  of  earthly  blessing  runs  over, 
and  then  he  will  not  be  far  from  them  in  the 
hour  of  their  greatest  need. 

9.    TWELVE    HOURS    IN    THE    DAY. 

Jesus  goes  in  good  time,  to  explain  and  fulfill 


BETHANY.  245 

his  assurance  that  the  sickness  of  Lazarus 
should  not  be  unto  death.  His  disciples  feared 
that  the  journey  might  be  attended  with  danger 
to  him  and  to  themselves,  and  they  accordingly 
endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  making  the 
attempt.  Jesus  silenced  their  remonstrances 
by  declaring  that  every  man  has  his  work  as- 
signed, and  that  while  he  walks  in  the  light  of 
truth,  no  power  on  earth  can  prevent  the  ac- 
complishment of  all  that  God  has  given  him  to 
do. 

We  shall  all  have  time  enough  to  do  our 
work  well,  if  we  improve  the  hours  as  they  are 
given ;  and  when  our  task  is  done,  there  will 
be  time  enough  to  rest.  Life  is  never  too  short 
to  them  who  live  for  God.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  loss  or  failure,  to  them  who  seek  infi- 
nite riches  in  the  love  of  Christ.  Those  that 
walk  with  Jesus,  can  tread  the  roughest  path 
of  life  with  firm  and  even  step,  without  haste, 
without  rest,  doing  the  duty  which  the  day 
brings,  and  ready  for  the  morrow  when  the 
morrow  comes.  The  hurry  and  the  waste,  the 
fear  of  failure  and  the  hope  of  success,  upon 
which   millions   weary  their   hearts,  all  come 


21  * 


246  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

from  neglecting  the  proper  work  of  life,  or  at- 
tempting to  do  what  had  better  never  be  done. 
InAdncible  energy  is  treasured  up  in  the  repose 
of  a  good  conscience ;  unquenchable  zeal  lives 
and  burns  beneath  the  calm  of  a  spirit  that 
communes  with  Jesus. 

A  great  Christian  statesman  and  scholar 
adopted  this  rule  for  the  division  of  time; — 
"  Give  eight  hours  of  the  twenty-four  to  toil, 
eight  to  devotion  and  recreation,  eight  to  rest, 
and  all  to  God."  It  is  the  giving  of  all  to  God, 
that  makes  every  day  profitable,  and  saves  the 
loss  of  a  single  hour.  If  we  make  it  our  great 
study  to  live  in  harmony  with  God's  provi- 
dence, and  in  obedience  to  his  word,  we  shall 
have  time  and  talents  and  opportunity  to  do  all 
our  work  and  to  do  it  well. 

However  many  months  and  years  of  life  men 
may  throw  away,  however  much  they  may 
burden  themselves  with  cares  and  business, 
and  plead  worldly  engagements  for  the  neglect 
of  duty,  God  w^ill  give  all  a  time  for  one  great 
and  solemn  work,  and  when  the  hour  comes, 
all  other  engagements  will  have  to  give  place 
to  that.     God  will  give  all  a  time  to  die.     God 


BETHANY.  247 

gives  opportiinities  for  repentance  and  faith, 
for  prayer  and  for  the  study  of  his  word,  for 
doing  good  to  others,  and  for  all  Christian 
work ;  and  men  may  use  the  opportunity  for  a 
thousand  other  things,  rather  than  the  one 
which  Grod  chooses.  But  there  is  one  call 
which  none  can  defer,  none  can  deny. 

A  hard  driven  slave  of  mammon  toiled  all 
the  week,  and  found  the  days  too  few  to  finish 
all  that  his  greedy  soul  desired  to  do.  The 
blessed  Sabbath  morning  found  him  back  at 
his  desk,  with  bills  and  ledgers  around  hiin, 
too  busy  to  keep  the  holy  day.  Half  of  the 
afternoon  was  gone  before  he  could  find  time 
to  rest.  All  Monday,  he  laughed  within  at  the 
cunning  cheat,  by  which  he  had  stolen  time 
from  Grod,  and  got  the  start  of  the  world  for  a 
week.  Tuesday  morning  tidings  came  to  his 
breakfast-table,  that  death  had  entered  the 
house  of  a  neighbor  and  friend,  the  previous 
night.  "  Ah  !  indeed,  but  it  is  very  difi*erent 
with  me.  I  am  so  busy  I  could  not  find  time 
to  die."  The  fool's  jest  was  still  on  his  lip, 
when  he  rose,  walked,  fell  upon  the  floor.  His 
hour  had  come.     He  had  pressing  work,  and 


248  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

many  things  that  nobody  but  himself  couki  do 
that  day.     But  he  was  not  too  busy  to  die. 

"  There  are  twelve  hours  in  the  day."  There 
is  a  fixed  and  appointed  season  of  duty,  of  toil 
and  of  blessing,  for  all  in  this  world.  While 
that  season  lasts,  God's  favor  will  shine  upon 
your  path  and  make  it  all  light.  Improve  the 
season  well,  and  so  when  nothing  more  remains 
for  you  to  do,  to  enjoy  or  to  suffer  here,  be 
ready  to  pass  in  peace,  through  the  rest  and 
sleep  of  death,  into  the  endless  and  blessed 
life. 

10.    THE    BLESSED    SLEEP. 

Death  is  the  most  awful  thunderbolt  of  the 
divine  wrath  that  has  ever  fallen  upon  this 
earth.  In  all  the  languages  of  men,  in  all  ages 
of  human  history,  it  has  been  named  the  king 
of  terrors.  From  him  who  is  living  without 
God  in  the  world,  it  cuts  off  every  hope,  it  de- 
stroys every  possession,  it  blasts  every  joy. 
To  him,  beauty  of  form,  and  pride  of  place, 
and  glory  of  intellect  are  but  dust  and  ashes 
when  death  comes  to  change  his  face  and  send 
him  away.     Let   philosophy   arm    itself   with 


BETHANY.  249 

studied  and  proud  resolution;  let  worldliness 
march  blindly  on,  refusing  to  think  of  an^^thing 
beyond  this  life;  let  romance  strew  the  grave 
with  flowers,  and  art  make  the  habitations  of 
the  dead  more  beautiful  than  the  homes  of  the 
living;  and  still  death,  in  any  form,  under  any 
circumstances,  is  awful. 

In  no  way  does  Jesus  assume  a  more  com- 
plete superiority  over  everything  that  we  have 
to  fear,  than  by  taking  away  the  terror  of 
death.  To  those  who  believe  in  him  he  makes 
death  only  a  sleep,  a  peaceful  and  holy  rest,  the 
awakening  from  which  shall  be  the  beginning 
of  a  new  and  a  blessed  life. 

Toil  is  the  best  prej)aration  for  rest.  The 
sleep  of  the  laboring  man  is  sweet.  'No  medi- 
cine of  the  physician,  no  exemption  from  care, 
no  "luxuries  of  house,  or  service,  or  table,  can 
command  such  refreshing  sleep  as  honest  labor 
brings  to  the  weary  every  night.  And  so  the 
sleep  of  death  will  be  sweet  and  welcome  to  all 
whose  work  of  life  is  done.  Life  is  the  time 
for  toil.  It  is  the  fool  that  says  to  his  soul, 
"Take  thine  ease."  The  call  for  more  laborers, 
in  every  part  of  God's  great  vineyard,  grows 


250  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

louder  and  louder  as  new  fields  of  usefulness 
are  opened,  and  the  facilities  for  doing  good  are 
multiplied.  In  such  a  time,  none  but  a  recreant 
and  an  idler  would  make  it  his  study  to  shun 
responsibility  and  seek  repose. 

There  is  no  promise  that  assured  rest  will  be 
given  here,  and  those  who  fix  their  hearts  upon 
attaining  it,  are  sure  to  be  disappointed.  There 
are  man}^  who  work  hard  and  wear  out  all  their 
strength,  to  lay  up  for  themselves  a  few  years 
of  rest  on  earth,  and  yet  never  find  an  hour  of 
calm  and  abundant  peace.  They  toil  and  weary 
themselves,  like  galley  slaves,  in  the  hard  ser- 
vice of  the  world,  and  then,  when  all  is  done, 
are  compelled  to  make  the  bitter  confession 
that  they  have  spent  their  strength  for  naught. 
The  work  and  the  weariness  of  life  have  been 
theirs  in  full  measure,  and  yet  they  have  never 
been  encouraged  and  comforted  by  the  assur- 
ance that  when  the  toil  of  life  is  done,  they 
shall  sleep  in  Jesus  and  find  rest.  They  bind 
themselves  with  heavy  bonds  to  the  god  of  this 
world;  they  consent  to  be  made  slaves  and  bow 
down  beneath  heavy  burdens ;  they  give  their 
hearts  to  be  pierced  and  tortured  with  care  and 


BETHANY.  251 

anxiety;  tliey  deny  themselves  the  true  joy  of 
living  and  get  nothing  for  their  pains  but  re- 
gret and  disappointment.  When  the  Master 
comes  to  take  account  of  their  work,  thev  have 
nothing  to  show  but  misimproved  talents  and 
wasted  hours.  They  must  go  down  to  the 
grave  Avitli  no  hope  that  the  sleep  of  death  will 
bring  them  to  the  morn  of  a  blessed  and  an 
endless  life. 

But  to  the  faithful  laborer,  who  has  toiled 
and  suffered  to  the  end,  in  loving  devotion  to 
his  heavenly  King,  Jesus  himself  will  come  in 
good  time  to  awake  him  out  of  sleep,  and  to 
clothe  him  in  the  robes  of  immortality.  He 
sliall  hear  the  voice  which  the  dead  Lazarus 
heard  in  Bethany,  and  shall  come  forth  to  a 
new  life  whose  serene  and  tireless  activity  shall 
be  the  truest  rest  for  the  soul. 

11.    THE    MERCIFUL    ABSENCE. 

The  inability  of  infinite  love  to  cease  from 
loving  and  helping  the  unworthy,  is  one  of  the 
wonders  of  revelation.  When  Jesus  told  his 
disciples  plainly  that  Lazarus  was  dead,  he 
said,  "  I  am  o-hid  for  your  sakes,  that  I  was  not 


232  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

there,  to  the  intent  that  ye  may  believe."  He 
ventured  to  be  thought  for  a  time  unkind  and 
forgetful  of  his  friend,  that  he  might  show  the 
greater  kindness  in  the  end.  If  he  had  been 
at  Bethany,  and  had  seen  the  progress  of  the 
disease  under  which  Lazarus  Avas  hastening  to 
the  grave,  compassion  for  the  suffering  one  and 
for  his  alarmed  and  afflicted  relatives,  would 
have  constrained  him  to  put  forth  his  miracu- 
lous power  and  arrest  the  disease,  and  so  he 
would  have  deprived  himself  of  the  opportu- 
nity to  perform  the  greater  miracle  of  raising 
the  dead.  He  confesses  himself  unable  to  wit- 
ness the  sorrow  of  his  friends,  in  the  house  of 
sickness  and  death,  without  putting  forth  his 
divine  power  for  their  relief;  and  that  too  when 
he  had  .the  strongest  reasons  for  withholding 
his  hand  for  a  while,  that  he  might  do  the 
greater  work  in  the  end. 

And  such  is  still  his  compassion  for  the  suf- 
fering and  the  needy  who  trust  in  him.  He 
cannot  refrain  himself  from  helping  them. 
The  same  Jehovah-Jesus,  the  Angel  of  the 
Covenant,  said  unto  Lot,  "  I  cannot  do  an}^- 
thing  till  thou  be  come  "  to  a  place  of  safety. 


BETHANY.  253 

-Jacob  discovered  the  unconquerable  Angel,  in 
the  mysterious  antagonist,  against  whom  he 
had  wrestled  in  the  dark  till  the  morning,  and 
then  he  was  not  rebuked  for  saying,  "  I  will 
not  let  thee  go,  except  thou  bless  me."  The 
lonely  and  defenseless  man  of  Penuel,  who 
feared  that  he  should  be  destroyed  by  his  angry 
brother  Esau,  had  power  with  the  infinite  One 
by  his  very  weakness,  and  prevailed. 

The  feebleness  of  the  child  overcomes  the 
strong  man's  heart.  So  the  Almighty  Father 
cries  in  compassion  over  his  erring  and  help- 
less children,  "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up  ? 
Mine  heart  is  turned  within  me,  my  repentings 
are  kindled  together."  Ages  before  the  Son  of 
God  appeared  in  fashion  as  a  man,  and  by  his 
meek  and  gentle  spirit  showed  the  true  char- 
acter of  the  Father  to  men,  it  was  written, 
"  Like  as  a  father  j)itieth  his  children,  so  the 
Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  For  he 
knoweth  our  frame,  he  remembereth  that  we 
are  dust." 

This  is  the  great  lesson  which  we  all  have  to 
learn,  through  living  faith  in  Christ  the  Son  of 
God.     Reason  and  nature  can  teach  us  much 

22 


254  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

concerning  a  supreme,  eternal  and  Almighty 
Creator.  The  gospel  alone,  with  its  human 
tenderness  and  touching  simplicity,  can  make 
us  acquainted  with  a  paternal  and  pitying  God. 
Inspiration  alone  may  venture  to  say  that 
human  weakness  can  prevail  over  infinite 
power. 

Multitudes  pass  through  the  world,  restless, 
impatient,  unhapj^y,  all  the  way,  always  grasp- 
ing at  something  beyond  their  reach  ;  always 
dissatisfied  with  that  which  has  cost  them  the 
most  pains ;  always  feeling  that  something  for 
which  they  are  not  responsible  stands  in  the 
wa}^  of  their  happiness.  It  would  make  life 
and  the  world  all  new  to  such,  if  they  could 
only  believe  that  they  have  a  Father  in  heaven 
rich  enough  to  bestow  every  blessing  upon  his 
children,  and  too  kind  to  let  them  suffer 
except  for  their  good.  It  would  be  the  most 
glorious  revelation  to  all  the  unhappy  if  they 
could  see  and  believe  that  God  cannot  restrain 
himself  from  helping  those  who  trust  in  him. 

And  these  words  are  not  simply  for  those 
who  are  already  in  trouble.  It  often  does  very 
little  good  to  speak  of  God's  pity  to  the  af- 


BETHANY.  255 

flicted,  just  because  they  have  not  learned  to 
recognize  his  kindness  in  the  day  of  prosper- 
ity. They  then  forgot  that  all  blessing  came 
from  their  heavenly  Father,  and  they  find  it 
still  harder  to  see,  when  the  cloud  is  upon 
them,  that  affliction  itself  may  be  sent  by  him 
in  still  greater  mercy.  If  we  walk  with  God 
in  the  day  of  peace  and  prosperity,  we  shall 
find  it  easy  to  believe  that  he  is  still  with  us 
in  the  night  of  conflict  and  sorrow. 

12.     BE   STILL. 

When  death  entered  the  house  of  a  Hebrew 
family,  it  was  the  signal  for  violent  outcries 
and  loud  lamentations.  The  afflicted  rent 
their  garments,  disfigured  their  faces,  plucked 
out  their  hair,  covered  themselves  with  sack- 
cloth and  ashes  and  sat  upon  the  ground. 
For  many  days,  all  the  ordinary  pursuits  of 
life  were  given  up ;  their  only  food  was  bread 
of  affliction  mingled  with  their  own  tears,  and, 
to  all  outward  appearance,  they  surrendered 
themselves  to  utter  wretchedness  and  despair. 
In  many  cases  hired  mourners  were  employed 
to  lift  up  their  voices  in  weeping  and  wailing ; 


256  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

and  sympathizing  friends  were  ambitious  to 
outdo  each  other  in  noisy  demonstrations  of 
woe,  and  thus  in  every  way  to  increase  the 
misery  of  those  who  mourned  from  real  sorrow 
of  heart.  The  custom  often  degenerated  into 
a  tiresome  and  unmeaning  form,  and  the 
afflicted  were  wearied  and  oppressed,  rather 
than  comforted,  by  the  ambitious  and  noisy 
condolence  of  their  friends. 

Such  was  the  scene  of  mourning  in  the 
stricken  house  at  Bethany,  when  the  divine 
Comforter  came,  the  fourth  day  after  Lazarus 
had  been  carried  to  the  grave.  Many  a  time 
had  friendly  messengers  gone  down  to  the 
opening  of  the  glen  towards  the  east,  and 
watched  the  companies  of  travelers  climbing 
up  the  steep  ascent  of  the  mountain-path  from 
Jericho,  hoping  that  Jesus  might  be  among 
them.  Many  a  time  had  the  bereaved  sisters 
gone  up  to  the  housetop,  and  looked  through 
their  tears  down  the  stony  wilderness  of 
Judea,  and  across  the  Jordan  valle}^  towards 
the  distant  Bethabara,  while  every  sigh  of 
their  stricken  hearts  said,  "  Oh !  that  Jesus 
would   come."     Ao-ain    and    a^-ain    had    thev 


BETHANY.  257 

questioned  the  messenger  who  came  back  from 
Jesus  with  the  promise  of  recovery,  if  by  any 
means  they  could  learn  the  meaning  of  that 
strange  word. 

At  last  Jesus  himself  comes  to  explain  and 
confirm  his  own  message.  But  the  blessed 
Comforter,  who  brings  peace  to  troubled  hearts 
will  not  go  at  once  to  the  house  wdiere  excited 
friends  and  guests  are  all  gathered  in  one 
room,  and  everything  is  filled  with  the  outcry 
and  ceremony  of  woe.  If  he  is  to  do  anything 
for  those  who  are  truly  afflicted,  he  must  first 
see  them  apart  from  their  vain  and  noisy  com- 
forters. He  stops  in  a  quiet  place  by  the  road- 
side, beneath  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  while 
one  of  his  company  goes  up  into  the  town  to 
tell  the  afflicted  sisters  where  the  Master  may 
be  found.  One  after  the  other  they  hurry  to 
the  spot  and  give  utterance  to  the  first  gush  of 
anguish  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  in  the  same  words, 
"  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother 
had  not  died."  Then  in  that  quiet  spot  before 
a  crowd  had  gathered  or  it  was  generally  known 
through  the  village  that  Jesus  had  come,  he 

22  * 


258  WALKS   AND   HOMES. 

comforts  the  heart-broken  sisters  with  his 
cahn  instructive  and  kindly  words. 

So  on  another  occasion,  when  Jesus  came  by 
urgent  request  to  a  house  which  had  just  been 
visited  by  death,  and  he  found  the  friends  of 
the  family  filling  the  rooms,  and  the  people 
making  a  noise  with  their  outcries  and  lamen- 
tations, he  would  do  nothing  until  the  excited 
company  were  put  forth  and  the  afflicted  ones, 
who  needed  his  consolation,  were  able  to  give 
quiet  and  thoughtful  attention  to  his  words. 

If  ever  it  becomes  us  to  be  still,  and  know 
that  the  Lord  is  God,  and  to  give  patient  and 
earnest  attention  to  the  voice  of  his  holy  prov- 
idence, it  is  when  he  comes  near  us  by  the 
awful  visitation  of  death.  It  is  a  very  sacred 
and  solemn  season  to  the  whole  family,  when 
one  of  their  number  lies  dead  in  the  house. 
Grod  is  there,  speaking  to  them  from  the  mar- 
ble face  and  the  silent  lips  which  were  so  lately 
full  of  life.  It  should  be  their  chief  concern 
to  understand  and  improve  the  lesson  which 
the  great  preacher,  death,  is  sent  to  teach.  God 
has  a  gracious  meaning  and  purpose,  in  his 
most  afflictive  dispensations,  for  the  instruction 


ep:thaxy.  259 

of  his  children,  and  they  should  never  let  the 
world  come  in,  with  its  forms  and  fashions,  to 
divert  their  attention  from  their  Father's  voice. 
The  world  is  proud  and  pretentious  even  in  its 
grief.  It  would  set  up  its  exacting  claims,  and 
enforce  its  capricious  hiAvs,  and  dictate  the  garb 
and  expression  of  sorrow  in  the  midst  of  the 
family,  when  a  voice  speaks  to  them  from  the 
bed  of  death,  and  the  open  grave  and  the  dis- 
closed realities  of  judgment  and  eternity. 

Let  those,  who  believe  in  Jesus,  behave  them- 
selves under  affliction,  as  if  he  himself  had 
come  to  the  house,  and  had  sat  down  quietly 
by  their  side  to  comfort  them,  and  to  teach 
them  the  great  lesson  of  submission  and  faith. 
We  need  not  be  afraid  to  pour  out  all  our  sor- 
rows before  him,  for  he  himself  is  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities.  In  the 
days  of  his  flesh,  he  expressed  the  anguish  of 
his  own  heart  with  strong  crying  and  many 
tears.  When  he  saw  others  weeping  around 
him  at  Bethany,  he  himself  wept  and  groaned 
in  spirit  and  was  troubled.  To  such  a  Friend 
we  may  surely  tell  all  our  grief.  But  if  we 
would  receive  such  consolation  as  he  alone  can 


260  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

give,  we  must  not  let  the  world  come  in  and 
weary  our  hearts  with  its  studied  form,  and 
parade,  and  drapery  of  woe. 

13.    VAIN   KEGEET. 

"Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother 
had  not  died."  The  heart-stricken  mourners 
of  Bethany  had  faith  enough  in  Jesus  to  be- 
lieve that  his  presence  with  them,  at  an  earlier 
day,  could  have  saved  them  from  their  great 
affliction.  They  did  not  dare  to  believe  that 
he  had  come  to  make  what  they  most  regretted 
the  occasion  of  their  deepest  and  most  unut- 
terable joy. 

Too  soon!  too  late!  Alas!  how  often  the 
words  fall  upon  the  ear  like  the  clods  of  the 
grave  upon  the  coffin.  "Too  soon,"  mourns  the 
mother's  bleeding  heart  when  the  pale  shadoAV 
of  death  settles  down  upon  the  cherub  brow  of 
her  innocent  babe.  "Too  soon,"  answers  the 
light-hearted  youth,  when  Jesus  comes  with  in- 
finite love  in  ever}^  look,  and  says,  "Give  me 
thy  heart,  follow  me."  "Too  soon,"  sighs  the 
weary  and  disappointed  Avorldling,  when  pleas- 
ure loses  its  charm  and  desire  fails,  and  the 


BETHANY.  261 

shadows  of  age,  and  disease,  and  death  gather 
around  his  path. 

*'Too  late,"  moans  the  stricken  parent,  when 
told  that  a  wiser  physician,  or  better  remedies 
would  have  saved  the  life  of  a  beloved  child. 
"Too  late,"  whispers  the  fainting  invalid,  who 
has  sought  a  more  genial  clime  for  recovery 
when  disease  has  already  poisoned  the  fountains 
of  life.  "  Too  late,"  sighs  the  dying  sinner,  who 
is  told  upon  the  bed  of  death  that  the  voice  of 
mercy  still  pleads  for  him. 

And  so,  with  multitudes,  the  memory  of  the 
past  is  strewn  all  the  way  with  bitter  regret. 
If  only  something  different  had  been  done, 
from  what  has  been  done,  then  they  suppose  the 
present  would  be  all  peace  and  the  future  all 
hope.  So  they  fondly  dream,  not  considering 
that  what  they  most  regret  in  the  past  may  have 
been  sent  in  mercy,  or  may  yet  be  improved  so 
as  to  be  the  occasion  of  endless  joy  in  the  fu- 
ture. It  is  not  for  us  to  suppose  that  ou* divine 
Deliverer  has  lost  his  interest  in  our  welfare 
because  we  cannot  see  his  face  in  the  dark  hour 
of  trial  and  temptation. 

The  night  was  black  with  clouds  and  tempest 


262  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

upon  the  sea  of  Galilee,  and  a  little  bark,  that 
bore  the  teachers  and  reformers  of  the  world, 
was  struggling  with  the  waves  and  in  danger 
of  perishing.  The  disciples  believed  that  if 
Jesus  were  with  them  on  board,  his  presence 
might  save  them  in  the  extremity  of  their 
danger.  They  had  no  thought  that  his  eye 
could  see  them  through  the  darkness  from  the 
distant  shore,  or  that  he  could  come  to  them 
walking  upon  the  Avaves.  They  could  only 
regret  that  they  had  put  out  to  sea  on  such  a 
night,  and  that  Jesus  was  left  alone  on  the 
land.  But  when  he  came,  and  the  storm  was 
hushed,  and  the  ship  was  safe  at  the  shore 
whither  they  went,  their  regret  was  changed 
into  jo}^  Then  the  hard  rowing  against  the 
wind,  and  the  violence  of  the  waves,  and  the 
blackness  of  the  storm,  and  the  imminence  of 
the  danger  were  remembered  with  gratitude  as 
the  means  of  bringing  forth  the  power  and 
glory  of  their  Master  in  brighter  display. 

And  such  would  be  the  happy  result  of  every 
trial  and  temptation  to  which  we  are  exposed, 
if  we  could  only  have  faith  enough  to  toil  on, 
and  hope  on,  till  the  hour  of  success  and  deliv- 


BETHANY.  263 

era  nee  comes.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  see 
the  hand  that  guards  our  way.  We  have  onl}^ 
to  press  on  in  the  course  of  duty  at  God's  com- 
mand, and  if  at  times  it  seems  to  us  that  we 
must  step  upon  the  void,  we  shall  find  the  rock 
beneath. 

When  disaster  and  disappointment  have 
befallen  us,  and  our  wisest  plans  and  noblest 
purposes  are  defeated,  it  does  not  become  us  to 
mourn  and  despair,  as  if  all  were  lost.  AYe 
must  all  find  much  in  the  past  to  regret.  And 
he  often  sees  most  to  regret,  who  has  been  most 
in  earnest  to  improve  his  time  well.  But  it  is 
by  mistakes  and  failures  that  the  conscientious 
learn,  and  the  diligent  improve.  Defeat  in  a 
single  battle  is  often  the  condition  of  success  in 
the  whole  campaign.  The  apparent  withhold- 
ing of  the  divine  blessing  for  a  season,  prepares 
for  a  more  abundant  harvest  in  the  end. 

The  reapers  find  two  kinds  of  wheat  in  the 
field  in  the  time  of  harvest.  One  grew  from 
seed  sown  in  the  early  spring.  The  warm  sun, 
and  frequent  showers,  and  mellow  earth,  caused 
it  to  shoot  up  a  rapid  growth,  and  to  bring- 
forth  its  mature  and  ripened  grain,  without  any 


264  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

appearance  of  delay  or  failure.  The  other  was 
sown  when  the  heat  of  summer  was  already 
past,  and  the  falling  dews  were  changed  to  frost, 
and  the  snows  of  winter  were  close  at  hand. 
It  had  scarcely  become  rooted  in  the  soil  before 
the  earth  was  firmly  locked  in  fetters  of  ice,  the 
process  of  growth  was  arrested,  and,  for  suc- 
cessive months,  the  whole  vegetable  world  was 
wrapped  in  the  pall  of  death.  But  when  the 
warm  spring  breathed  upon  the  earth  again, 
the  winter  grain  was  prepared  to  shoot  up  the 
more  vigorously,  because  the  severity  of  frost 
and  snow  had  compelled  it  to  take  deeper  root 
in  the  earth.  And  the  harvest  is  ever  most 
abundant  from  the  grain  that  has  been  checked 
in  its  first  growth,  cropped  down  and  trampled 
upon  by  grazing  flocks,  and  buried  beneath 
drifted  snow. 

So  does  God  send  the  long,  cold  winter  of 
trial  and  delay  and  disappointment,  to  give  his 
people  time  to  deepen  and  enlarge  the  founda- 
tions of  their  faith.  Then  when  the  heavens 
are  023ened,  and  the  gracious  rain  descends,  the 
seed  of  the  divine  word,  which  has  been  sown 


BETHANY.  265 

in  patience  and  sorrow,  springs  up  and  brings 
forth  the  most  abundant  harvest. 

14.    THE    RESUEEECTION   AND    THE    LIFE. 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life."  These 
are  the  words  of  a  King  and  a  Conqueror— a 
King  to  reign  over  all  the  gifts  and  joys  of  life, 
a  Conqueror  to  subdue  all  the  fear  and  power 
of  death.  Standing  by  the  grave  of  one  whom 
he  deeply  loved,  surrounded  by  weeping  mourn- 
ers, himself  soon  to  expire  upon  the  cross, 
Jesus  claims  the  keys  of  death.  He  assumes 
the  right  and  the  power  to  give  eternal  life  to 
whom  he  will.  He  stands  forth,  in  his  living- 
person,  the  sole  and  divine  cham^^ion  for  the 
defense  and  deliverance  of  the  human  race ;  for 
the  arrest  of  that  destruction  which  has  bur- 
dened all  languages  with  sounds  of  woe,  and 
made  the  earth  one  universal  grave.  He  is 
not  simply  a  prophet  who  comes  into  the  world 
upon  a  mission  of  instruction.  He  is  himself 
the  truth,  which  he  proclaims.  He  is  the  life, 
which  he  offers  to  the  world.  He  is  able  to 
destroy  death,  and  to  clothe  this  mortal  with 
immortality. 

23 


266  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

These  words  which  Jesus  spoke  by  the  road- 
side as  he  drew  near  to  Bethany,  have  already 
gone  out  with  light  and  blessing  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  Ten  thousand  thousand  times  have 
these  words  brought  peace  and  hope  to  trou- 
bled hearts,  in  the  darkened  chamber  of  suifer- 
ing,  in  the  hush  of  the  house  of  mourning,  in 
the  still  presence  of  the  dead,  and  beside  the 
open  grave.  Faith  has  graven  the  blessed 
words  upon  the  tomb  to  proclaim  its  triumph 
over  the  king  of  terrors.  The  great  host  of 
the  redeemed  from  all  lands,  from  all  times, 
passing  on  in  continued  procession  to  the  hea- 
venly Zion,  have  marched  through  the  gates 
of  death  to  the  same  song. 

Oh!  ye  sons  and  daughters  of  affliction,  who 
go  to  weep  at  the  grave  of  your  beloved,  and 
refuse  to  be  comforted  because  they  come  not 
back ;  ye  fearful  and  unbelieving,  who  dread 
the  approach  of  the  last  bitter  hour,  and  can- 
not bear  to  think  of  closing  your  eyes  forever 
upon  all  this  living  world;  ye  disappointed 
and  murmuring,  whose  earthly  hopes  are  all 
buried  in  the  deep  grave  of  the  past,  and 
whose  daily  experience  is  only  a  renewal  of 


BETHANY.  267 

murmuring  and  disappointment ;  hear  the 
words  of  Jesus,  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and 
the  life."  Not  all  the  harps  of  heaven  could 
breathe  such  peace  into  the  troubled  soul  as 
all  may  attain  through  faith  in  the  meaning 
and  mighty  power  of  these  words.  Take  them 
to  your  hearts.  Learn  by  experience  what 
words  can  never  teach.  Gain  the  victory  over 
all  your  sorrows,  fears  and  disappointments  by 
trusting:  in  him  who  alone  has  eternal  life  to 


give. 


The  most  cherished  expectations  of  earthly 
good  may  be  utterly  cut  off.  The  temporal 
possessions  which  have  been  guarded  with 
every  possible  security,  may  take  wings  and 
fly  away.  He  who  labors  hardest  in  the 
beaten  track  of  this  earthly  life,  may  find  the 
least  reward.  The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  old 
and  the  young,  the  healthful  and  the  diseased, 
the  honored  and  the  des]3ised  will  all  die.  'No 
one  can  tell  in  what  direction  his  sorest  disap- 
pointment will  come.  No  prophet  of  the  Lord 
will  be  sent  to  prepare  the  way  before  the  mes- 
senger of  death. 

And  yet  the  word  of  Jesus  can  never  fail,  "  He 


268  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

that  belie vetli  in  me  shall  never  die."  The 
hopes  upon  which  he  most  relies  shall  ever 
live.  The  sources  from  which  he  derives  the 
deepest  joy  shall  never  fail.  His  most  precious 
treasures  shall  be  ever  increasing  in  value. 
For  his  greatest  wants  he  shall  be  ever  finding 
a  more  certain  and  full  supply.  The  objects 
of  desire  on  which  he  fixes  his  heart  most 
intently,  shall  grow  in  value  the  more  severely 
he  tests  their  worth.  The  most  cherished 
attachments  which  he  forms  in  the  journey  of 
life,  shall  be  renewed  and  confirmed  forever  in 
a  better  land.  One  infinite  Friend  who  can 
command  and  bestow  all  possible  blessing 
shall  always  be  ready  to  do  for  him  exceeding- 
abundantly,  above  all  that  he  can  ask  or  think. 
The  grave  shall  be  to  him  the  gateway  of  life, 
and  through  its  dark  portals  he  shall  pass  into 
the  land  of  endless  lioht. 

o 

Surely  of  such  an  one  it  is  safe  to  say,  "  He 
shall  never  die."  He  shall  never  lose  the  joy, 
the  glory,  the  blessedness  of  that  life  whose 
ever-flowino'  fountain  is  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God. 


BETHANY.  269 


15.    JESUS   WEPT. 


Xerxes  wept  when  he  surveyed  the  millions 
of  his  army  covering  the  plains,  and  the  thou- 
sands of  his  ships  whitening  the  sea,  and  he 
thought  how  soon  the  living  host  would  all 
moulder  down  to  dust.  Alexander  of  Mace- 
don  wept  when  he  found  himself  the  master  of 
the  world,  and  yet  less  satisfied  than  he  was 
when  he  began  the  career  of  conquest.  The 
hero  of  a  hundred  battles,  the  idolized  com- 
mander of  a  half  million  of  warriors,  the  au- 
tocrat of  kings  who  cast  down  thrones  and 
changed  the  destiny  of  nations,  wept  over  the 
body  of  one  poor  soldier  slain  in  his  service. 

There  is  something  very  awful  in  the  tears 
as  well  as  in  the  power  and  wrath  of  such 
mighty  conquerors.  They  rule  the  destiny  of 
millions.  They  make  themselves  the  terror  of 
nations.  Their  movements  are  watched,  as 
men  watch  the  progress  of  the  pestilence  in 
fear  lest  it  shall  come  among  them.  By  the 
flattery  of  friends  and  the  fear  of  subjects  they 
are  exalted  as  gods.     But   their  tears  prove 

23  * 


270  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

them  to  be  men,  weak,  passionate,  disappointed, 
helpless  men. 

But  the  tears  of  the  Son  of  God  wept  at  the 
grave  of  Lazarus,  and  over  the  impending 
woes  of  unha^Dpy  Jerusalem,  have  a  far  deeper 
and  more  awful  meaning  than  the  tears  of 
human  weakness,  or  humbled  j)ride,  or  disap- 
pointed ambition.  He  did  not  weep  because 
the  mighty  work  which  he  had  undertaken  to 
do  surpassed  his  power,  or  because  the  desire 
of  his  soul  had  failed  to  be  satisfied.  It  is  a 
most  astonishing  proof  of  the  depth  of  his 
sympathy  that  he  should  weep  with  the  afflicted 
while  yet  he  possessed  the  power  to  restore  the 
dead  to  life.  He  could  bring  back  the  lost 
treasure,  but  he  could  not  be  insensible  to  the 
grief  of  those  who  mourned  as  if  it  could  never 
be  recovered.  However  full  and  satisfying  the 
consolation  which  he  was  able  to  bestow,  he 
must  weep  with  those  who  wept  around  him. 
So  the  mother  subjects  the  little  child  to  a  brief 
disappointment,  to  inculcate  the  spirit  of  obe- 
dience, and  yet  she  weeps  from  sympathy  Avith 
the  child's  grief,  while  intending  to  bestow  a 
richer  gratification  in  the  end.     Jesus  wept  be- 


BETHANY.  271 

cause  the  depth  of  his  own  sympathy  made  the 
grief  which  others  felt  as  real  to  him  as  it  was 
to  them.  This  is  the  astonishing  revelation 
which  baffles  all  reason,  and  dazzles  the  vision 
of  the  loftiest  faith ;  the  sympathy  of  the  infi- 
nite One  with  the  grief  of  our  poor  hearts. 
There  is  nothing  in  prophecy,  nothing  in  mira- 
cles, nothing  in  the  whole  creation,  so  new,  so 
wonderful,  so  enrapturing  as  the  expression  of 
the  divine  pity  in  the  tears  of  the  weeping  Son 
of  God. 

And  then  again,  Jesus  must  have  been  moved 
by  something  more  than  the  sorrow  of  the  lit- 
tle company  around  him,  when  he  groaned  in 
spirit  and  was  troubled  even  to  tears.  He  saw 
indeed  quite  enough  to  make  him  weep  in  the 
affliction  which  death  had  brought  upon  one 
quiet  and  beloved  family.  But  besides  all  that, 
he  bore  upon  his  heart  the  sorrows  and  the  des- 
olations of  ages.  His  ear  was  open  to  the  wail 
of  the  suffering  and  afflicted  in  all  lands,  in  all 
times.  To  him,  the  woes  of  the  whole  human 
race  broke  forth  in  one  exceeding  great  and 
bitter  cry,  and  his  soul  was  in  agony  to  relieve 
them  all.     He  could  hear  the  moan  of  the  oreat 


272  WALKS    AXD    HOMES. 

ocean  of  human  grief  breaking  from  its  un- 
sounded depths  upon  all  the  shores  of  time, 
and  rolling  the  awful  burden  of  sorrow  into  the 
abyss  of  eternity.  He  knew  that  the  history 
of  millions  for  ages  to  come,  would  be  written 
in  blood  and  blotted  with  tears. 

He  could  comfort  the  bereaved  sisters  of 
Bethany  by  awakening  their  brother  from  the 
sleep  of  death.  But  the  mighty  miracle  itself 
would  be  only  a  drop  of  consolation  to  the  in- 
finite ocean  of  human  grief.  The  risen  Laza- 
rus must  die  ao-ain.  The  comforted  sisters 
must  mourn  again.  Themselves  and  all  dear 
to  them  must  die.  The  pitiless  ravages  of 
death  must  go  on  through  all  the  earth.  In 
the  very  hour  when  one  was  raised  from  the 
tomb,  thousands  would  die.  While  the  heart 
of  Jesus  was  moved  with  infinite  pity  for  all 
the  afflicted  and  suffering,  and  with  the  desire 
to  relieve  them  all,  he  knew  how  hard  it  would 
be  to  arrest  the  tide  of  human  woe.  While  he 
w^as  willing  to  give  his  own  life-blood  to  put 
out  the  torturing  fires  of  guilt  and  remorse  in 
the  human  soul,  he  knew  that  even  that  sacri- 
fice would  fail  to  save  many.     All  this  sin  and 


BETHANY.  273 

sorrow  of  a  weeping  and  dying  world,  being 
represented  to  the  mind  of  Jesus  by  the  grief 
of  the  little  company  about  him  at  Bethany, 
he  wept.  He  groaned  in  spirit  and  was  trou- 
bled. 

The  tears  of  Jesus,  the  deep  and  unaf- 
fected sorrow  of  the  divine  and  holy  Saviour, 
shows  better  than  anything  else  how  exceed- 
ingly evil  and  bitter  a  thing  we  have  all  done 
in  forsaking  the  fountain  of  living  waters. 
God  might  thunder  denunciations  against  sin 
from  the  heavens  every  hour.  He  might 
write  threatenings  in  letters  of  fire  upon  the 
sky  every  night.  He  might  cause  the  earth  to 
groan  and  belch  forth  fires  in  every  land  and 
the  billows  of  the  ocean  to  lift  up  their  voices 
on  every  shore  in  wrathful  testimony  against 
transgression.  And  yet  all  that  array  of  terror 
would  not  show  us  as  deeply,  as  sadly  as  the 
tears  of  Jesus  how  dreadful  a  thing  it  is  to 
sin,  how  hard  a  task  it  is  for  infinite  power  to 
save  from  the  consequences  of  sin. 

That  a  holy  being  should  weep,  that  the  Son 
of  God  should  be  troubled  in  spirit,  that  the 
divine  Saviour  should   be   bowed  down   with 


274  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

anguish  and  utter  his  sorrows  in  groans  and 
tears,  is  indeed  a  mystery  that  may  cause  the 
heavens  to  wonder  and  the  earth  to  be  aston- 
ished. It  can  be  exphiined  only  by  admitting 
that  the  evil  of  sin  is  infinite,  and  that  the  sal- 
vation of  sinners  is  a  work  for  the  utmost 
resources  of  infinite  power.  That  mighty  One 
who  wept  by  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  could  walk 
the  waves,  and  hush  the  storm,  and  create 
abundance  in  the  desert,  and  call  to  his  aid 
legions  of  angels,  and  raise  the  dead.  But 
he  took  on  himself  a  greater  task  in  be- 
coming a  Man  of  sorrows,  and  in  bearing  the 
sins  of  a  lost  world.  In  executing  that  great 
commission,  he  must  destroy  death.  He  must 
deliver  those  whom  sin  had  bound  in  everlast- 
ing chains.  He  must  spoil  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness and  return  to  his  heavenly  throne,  with 
redemption  for  the  brightest  of  his  many 
crowns.  He  must  lift  up  the  guilty  and  fallen 
from  their  degradation,  make  them  equal  Avith 
angels,  sharers  of  his  glory  and  kings  forever 
unto  God.  And  he  must  do  all  that  in  such  a 
way  as  to  maintain  justice,  and  encourage 
obedience,  to  honor  the  divine  law  and  to  cover 


BETHANY.  275 

the  pride  and  power  of  sin  with  everhxsting 
contempt.  No  wonder  that  the  Son  of  God 
himself,  under  the  pressure  of  such  a  burden, 
groaned  in  spirit  and  wept  with  an  anguish 
that  was  deeper  than  the  utmost  depths  of 
human  sorrow. 

While  then  Jesus  wept  in  sympathy  with 
the  little  company  of  mourners  around  him, 
while  his  own  heart  felt  the  blow  which  had 
fallen  upon  his  beloved  friend,  he  wept  still 
more  bitterly  for  those  who  would  not  believe 
though  the  dead  should  come  back  to  life  before 
their  eyes ;  for  the  deeper  and  more  awful 
death  by  which  the  souls  of  millions  were  held 
in  hopeless  captivity  to  sin  ;  for  the  madness 
of  multitudes  who  should  hear  the  word  of 
life  in  their  day  of  visitation  and  reject  it;  for 
the  strange  infatuation  of  those  who  should 
admit  the  truth  of  that  word  and  pay  all  out- 
ward respect  to  its  ministrations,  and  yet 
never  receive  it  to  their  hearts ;  for  the  wdiole 
race  of  man,  so  slow  to  believe,  so  hard  to  be 
reclaimed,  while  countless  woes  in  every  land, 
and  remorse  in  every  heart  testify  to  the  need 
of  a  Saviour ;  for  the  one  great  apostacy  from 


276  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

God  wliicli  lias  filled  all  human  homes  with 
sorrow,  and  loaded  all  the  languages  of  men 
with  words  of  woe,  and  enticed  countless  mul- 
titudes into  the  broad  way  of  destruction,  and 
peopled  the  regions  of  darkness  Avith  lost 
souls  ; — for  this  did  Jesus  weep  ;  for  this  the 
heavens  might  well  be  dissolved  in  tears  and 
the  whole  creation  groan  and  travail  in  pain 
together.  To  arrest  the  progress  of  this 
w^orld-wide  and  infinite  woe,  the  Son  of  God 
wrestled  in  pain  and  sorrow  till  the  SAveat 
wrung  out  from  his  great  agony  fell  like  drops 
of  blood  upon  the  ground.  For  this  he  bowed 
himself  at  last  in  death  upon  the  cross. 

The  Avords  Avith  Avhich  the  evangelist  de- 
scribes the  feelings  of  Jesus  as  he  approached 
the  tomb,  express  indignation,  as  Avell  as  grief. 
We  ask  at  Avhat  the  AA-eeping  and  compassionate 
Saviour  could  be  indignant  at  such  a  moment. 
We  can  only  say  that  his  anger  burned  against 
the  cause  Avhich  has  done  and  Avill  still  do  so 
much  to  fill  the  Avorld  Avith  Availing  and  despair. 
He  AA  ho  could  pour  out  his  pity  for  sinners  in 
floAving  tears,  must  still  regard  sin  itself  as  the 
fit  subject  of  indignation  and  Avrath.     He  Avas 


BETHANY.  277 

willing  to  suffer  and  die  that  the  guilty  might 
be  saved,  but  he  could  not  be  indifferent  to  the 
enormity  of  their  sin.  And  in  the  end,  those 
who  reject  his  offered  love,  will  have  nothing 
in  the  universe  so  much  to  fear  as  the  displeas- 
ure of  him  who  died  for  their  salvation.  They 
will  pray  to  be  covered  by  the  rocks  and  moun- 
tains of  a  burning  world  rather  than  to  meet 
the  "  wrath  of  the  Lamb." 

16.    TAKE   YE   AWAY   THE    STONE. 

And  now  Jesus,  groaning  in  himself  cometh 
to  the  grave.  It  was  a  cave  and  a  stone  lay 
upon  it.  The  chief  mourners  gather  closely 
around  him,  and  curious  spectators  follow  to 
hear  what  will  be  said  and  to  see  what  will  be 
done.  This  mighty  Son  of  God  whose  voice 
the  dead  in  their  graves  shall  all  hear,  stands 
at  the  door  of  the  tomb  in  which  his  beloved 
friend  lies  buried.  But  he  pauses  in  the  mo- 
ment when  all  eyes  are  fixed  upon  him  with 
the  most  intense  and  painful  expectation,  and 
he  looks  around  him  for  human  help.  His  in- 
finite and  divine  power  will  not  perform  the 
mighty  miracle  of  raising  the  dead,  until  hu- 

24 


278  WALKS   AXB    HOMES. 

man  hands  have  performed  the  common  and 
trifling  task  of  taking  away  the  stone. 

He  can  summon  legions  of  angels  and  they 
will  come  at  his  call.  He  can  bid  the  moun- 
tains depart  and  the  hills  remove,  and  they 
will  obey  his  word.  But  he  stands  at  the  tomb 
of  his  buried  friend,  as  if  his  were  the  feeblest 
hand  in  all  the  company,  and  he  says  to  those 
around  him,  "  Take  ye  away  the  stone."  His 
divine  power  will  not  display  itself  in  the 
mighty  work  of  raising  the  dead,  unless  the 
feeble,  the  afflicted,  and  the  helpless  shall  j^er- 
form  their  part  and  prepare  the  way.  The 
stone  lies  heavy  and  cold  at  the  door  of  the 
tomb,  and  the  body  of  the  buried  Lazarus,  lies 
as  dead  and  cold  within,  yet  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God  will  not  be  heard  by  the  silent 
sleeper ;  he  will  not  know  that  Jesus  stands  so 
near,  unless  the  helping  hands  of  men  shall 
roll  away  the  stone. 

The  feeble  faith  of  the  afflicted  fails  them  in 
the  very  moment  when  all  their  grief  is  about 
to  be  changed  to  a  new"  and  surprising  joy. 
They  interpose  objections  and  hindrances  in  the 
way  of  Jesus,  just  as  he  is  ready  to  speak  the 


BETHANY.  279 

word  which  will  lift  the  heaviest  burden  from 
their  hearts.  "  Oh  !  no.  Take  not  away  the 
stone.  We  cannot  bear  to  look  upon  the  face 
of  our  brother,  changed  as  it  is  now  by  the  de- 
cay and  the  revolting  ghastliness  of  death. 
AVe  would  remember  him  as  we  saw  him  in 
the  pale  and  placid  slumber  of  death,  with  the 
gentle  smile,  with  Avhich  he  bade  us  farewell, 
still  lingering  upon  his  lip.  JN^o,  no,  take  not 
away  the  stone.  It  is  too  late.  There  is  no 
trace  of  life  or  loveliness  left  upon  the  face  of 
our  beloved,  and  we  cannot  bear  the  sight." 

So  the  broken-hearted  mourners  of  Bethany 
hesitate  and  hold  back  the  arm  of  infinite 
power,  when  Jesus  stands  before  them  and  they 
have  only  to  do  his  bidding  and  their  lost 
brother  shall  be  restored  to  life  again.  A  word 
of  his  could  cast  that  stone  into  the  depths  of 
the  sea.  But  he  pauses  and  reasons  with  the 
afflicted  ones,  and  persuades  them  to  permit 
him  to  help  them  in  his  own  way  and  to  use 
the  aid  which  he  chooses  in  his  divine  work. 
Infinite  power  and  infinite  mercy  wait  for  the 
consent  of  human  hearts  and  the  help  of  human 
hands.     If  the  afflicted  will  not  take  his  word, 


280  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

if  those  wlio  stand  around  will  not  put  forth 
their  effort  as  if  divine  po^Yer  needed  their  aid, 
the  miracle  will  not  be  performed,  the  dead 
will  not  be  raised,  the  living  Avill  be  left  to 
mourn  for  their  beloved  as  those  who  refuse  to 
be  comforted. 

It  is  upon  like  conditions  that  Jesus 
still  performs  his  mighty  work  of  raising  to 
spiritual  life  those  who  are  dead  in  trespasses 
and  in  sins.  There  is  much  for  human  faith 
and  human  hands  to  do,  before  the  cold  dead 
world  will  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God 
and  wake  to  new  life.  Jesus  comes  and  stands 
in  the  midst  of  communities  and  congregations, 
ready  to  speak  the  word  which  thousands  must 
hear  or  never  see  life.  But  he  turns  to  his 
friends,  his  folloAvers,  his  consecrated  and  cov- 
enanted disciples,  who  have  besought  him  to 
come,  and  he  waits  for  them  to  take  the  cold 
and  heavy  stone  of  unbelief  from  their  own 
hearts.  He  will  awake  the  dead ;  he  will  make 
the  nations  hear  his  voice ;  he  will  fill  the  habi- 
tations of  the  living  with  the  songs  of  ransomed 
and  immortal  millions,  if  only  his  followers 


BETHANY.  281 

will  have  faith  in  his  presence  and  in  his  power 
to  save. 

There  is  many  a  city  now  as  of  old  where 
Jesus  is  restrained  from  carrying  on  his  mighty 
work  of  conversion  and  salvation,  by  the  unbe- 
lief of  his  own  disciples.  If  they  could  only 
have  faith,  they  would  see  the  glory  of  God  in 
the  coming  forth  of  thousands  to  the  new  life 
of  love  and  consecration  to  Christ.  The  sceptic 
may  scoff,  the  indifferent  may  pass  idly  by,  the 
curious  may  wonder  and  speculate,  and  none 
may  dream  that  themselves  are  ever  to  be 
brought  humbly  and  penitently  to  bow  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus.  And  yet  they  will  hear  his 
voice  and  he  will  make  them  all  his  own,  as 
soon  as  his  friends  and  folloAvers  venture  to 
take  him  at  his  word  when  he  says,  "All 
things  are  possible  to  them  that  believe." 

It  is  not  money,  nor  talent,  nor  learning,  nor 
opportunity  so  much  as  faith  that  the  church 
needs  to  fulfil  its  great  commission  to  make 
disciples  of  all  nations.  No  arguments  of  the 
sceptic,  no  opposition  of  the  wicked,  no  indif- 
ference of  the  worldly  can  stand  before  the 
truth  speaking  by  the  faith,  and  toil  and  sac- 

24  * 


282  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

rifice  of  a  united  and  consecrated  church.  All 
the  riches  and  power  and  glory  of  the  earth 
shall  be  given  to  the  followers  of  Christ,  when 
once  they  have  faith  enough  to  give  all  they 
have  to  him.  The  world,  that  lies  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins,  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God  and  come  forth  to  new  life,  when 
the  followers  of  Jesus  arise  at  his  command  and 
roll  awav  the  stone  of  unbelief  from  their  own 
hearts. 

17.    LIFE    FROM    THE    DEAD. 

And  now  the  rock  is  rolled  away,  and  the 
silent  company  stand  before  the  open  tomb,  in 
the  hush  of  breathless  and  awful  expectation. 
The  last  act  of  human  faith  is  done,  and  the 
believing  mourners  are  waiting  to  see  the  glory 
of  God.  If  the  voice  of  Jesus  avails  in  this 
case  to  call  back  the  lost  life,  it  must  be  a  dis- 
play of  the  same  power  which  gives  life  to  all 
creatures  that  live.  The  daughter  of  Jairus  at 
Capernaum  had  been  but  a  little  while  dead, 
when  Jesus  touched  her  hand,  and  her  spirit 
came  again.  The  grave  had  not  yet  received 
the  young  man,  when  Jesus  touched  the  bier  at 


BETHANY.  283 

the  gate  of  ^"^ain,  and  he  that  was  dead  rose  up 
and  began  to  speak.  In  such  a  case,  the  cavi- 
ler  might  say  that  the  apparent  death  was 
only  a  trance,  and  the  asserted  miracle  of  the 
restoration  was  only  a  natural  waking  from 
sleep. 

But  here  is  a  grave  opened  so  long  after  the 
burial,  that  living  friends  shrink  from  behold- 
ing the  form  of  their  beloved  in  decay.  Here 
stands  the  Prince  of  life,  face  to  face  with  the 
revolting  aspect  and  the  dread  reality  of  death. 
Will  he  have  power  to  make  his  voice  heard, 
in  that  mysterious  world  where  the  soul  of 
Lazarus  has  been  so  many  days  wandering  or 
at  rest?  Will  the  dark  kingdom  of  death 
throAV  open  its  inexorable  doors,  and  permit  its 
new  subject  to  return,  in  answer  to  the  call  of 
the  Son  of  man  ?  Shall  the  emancipated  spirit, 
having  once  escaped  from  its  fetters  and  flown 
forth  upon  the  boundless  range  of  the  universe, 
return  at  the  command  of  Jesus,  and  consent 
to  take  up  its  old  burden  of  suffering  flesh,  and 
tread  the  narrow  round  of  its  earthly  prison- 
house  again  ? 

Such  is  the  awful  test  to  which  the  power. 


284  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

the  authority  and  the  whole  divine  mission  of 
Jesus  are  subjected,  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus. 
In  the  company  of  silent  and  wondering  spec- 
tators that  stand  around,  are  represented  the 
wdiole  race  of  man  held  in  bondage  to  death, 
and  w^aiting  to  see  w  hether  the  word  of  their 
offered  Deliverer  shall  avail  to  throw  open  the 
doors  of  their  j^rison-house,  and  set  them  free. 
If  the  departed  soul  of  Lazarus  comes  not  back 
at  the  call  of  Jesus,  then  there  is  no  hope  for 
man,  and  the  wide  world  is  given  over  to  the 
endless  and  absolute  dominion  of  death.  If 
this  changed  and  ghastly  form,  now  as  lifeless 
as  the  earth  and  rock  of  the  tomb,  shall  re- 
spond to  the  voice  of  Jesus,  and  stand  forth  in 
the  fullness  of  restored  life,  then  surely  all 
may  live  by  faith  in  him.  Trusting  in  this 
mighty  Conqueror,  we  can  triumph  over  the 
one  great  destroyer,  wdiose  presence  has  tilled 
every  earthly  home  with  desolation,  and  whose 
dread  has  covered  the  unseen  world  w^ith  the 
pall  of  darkness  and  horror. 

Imagining  ourselves  standing  wdth  the  wait- 
ing company  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and 
knowing  that  such  mighty  consequences  depend 


BETHANY.  285 

upon  the  utterance  of  the  word  when  Jesus 
cries  with  a  loud  voice,  "Come  foeth,"  we  are 
breathless  with  expectation.  Like  the  weeping 
sisters,  who  most  desired  to  see  the  face  of  their 
restored  brother,  we  are  almost  afraid  to  have 
him  speak  the  word  which,  when  spoken,  must 
confirm  or  extinguish  our  dearest  hopes  for- 
ever. 

But  Jesus  himself  is  calm.  He  no  longer 
weeps,  now  that  he  has  the  work  of  infinite 
power  to  do.  His  prayer  unto  his  Father  is  a 
thanksgiving,  and  his  call  upon  the  dead  is  a 
command  as  quickly  obeyed  as  spoken.  The 
form,  so  changed  with  decay  that  friends  feared 
to  look  upon  it,  stands  forth  before  all  the  com- 
pany a  living  man,  waiting  only  to  be  loosed 
from  his  grave-clothes,  to  return  to  his  home  in 
the  strength  and  beauty  of  his  young  manhood. 
It  is  not  the  slow  recovery  by  which  the  dying 
sometimes  come  back,  with  feeble  step  and 
fainting  breath,  from  the  borders  of  the  grave. 
It  is  not  as  when  a  strong  man  wakes  suddenly 
from  deep  sleep,  bewildered  and  lost.  This 
deeper  sleep  of  death  passes  instantaneously, 
at  the  word  of  Jesus,  into  full  and  conscious 


286  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

Jife.  And  again  the  mighty  One,  who  has  per- 
formed the  divine  work  of  restoration,  looks 
around  him  for  the  help  of  human  hands  to 
loose  the  bands  with  which  the  dead  was  bound 
and  let  the  living  go. 

So  evermore  must  the  human  and  divine  co- 
operate in  the  mighty  Avork  of  delivering  cap- 
tive souls  from  the  bands  of  spiritual  death. 
The  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  alone  can  break 
the  slumber  of  those  who  are  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins.  But  human  ftiith  can  do  much  to 
prepare  the  way  for  the  divine  work;  and  hu- 
man effort  must  ever  be  put  forth  to  improve 
and  conlirm  the  victory  which  divine  power 
has  gained. 

Human  curiosity  searches  the  inspired  re- 
cord in  vain,  to  find  what  recollections  the  re- 
stored Lazarus  brought  back  from  that  un- 
seen world  where  his  spirit  was  wandering 
while  his  body  rested  in  the  tomb.  It  was  not 
to  gratify  such  curiosity  that  Jesus  unbarred 
the  gates  of  death  and  brought  back  the  soul 
of  his  beloved  friend.  It  was  ratlier  to  prove 
beyond  all  question  that  the  sceptre  of  his 
power  is  supreme  over  both  worlds,  and  that 


BETHANY.  287 

those  Avho  trust  in  liini  can  never  go  beyond 
the  hearing  of  his  voice  or  the  reach  of  his 
hand. 

The  most  acute  of  modern  sceptics  confesses 
that  if  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus  be  a  reality 
it  demonstrates  the  divine  authority  of  the 
whole  Gospel,  and  shuts  up  every  candid  mind 
to  the  logical  necessity  of  believing  in  Jesus 
as  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  It  is  only  necessary  that  the  sacred 
record  shall  be  studied  wdth  the  same  ftiith  and 
fairness  which  the  severest  critics  accord  to 
other  portions  of  ancient  history,  in  order  that 
the  reality  of  the  resurrection  may  be  estab- 
lished beyond  question,  and  that  this  mighty 
miracle  of  Bethany  may  stand  forth  in  com- 
plete and  glorious  demonstration  of  all  that 
man  need  believe  to  be  saved.  This  beloved 
and  truthful  man  of  Bethany,  who  came  back 
from  the  unseen  w^orld  at  the  word  of  Jesus, 
testifies  by  his  life  to  all  readers  of  the  Gospel 
history,  that  Jesus  is  Lord  both  of  the  dead 
and  the  living.  He  has  proved  his  power  to 
destroy  death,  and  with  him  for  a  friend  the 
weak  can  conquer  the  mightiest  foe,  and  tlie 


288  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

timid   can   face   the   king   of   terrors  without 
fear. 

Jesus  raised  the  dead  body  of  Lazarus  to  life, 
that  all  might  trust  in  his  power  to  restore  spirit- 
ual life  to  those  who  are  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins.  He  performs  this  greater  miracle  even 
now,  before  the  eyes  of  men,  whenever  a  weary, 
sin-burdened  soul  is  drawn  to  him  for  rest.  This 
new  creation  of  fallen  men  to  eternal  life  and 
glory  by  the  power  of  Jesus  is  the  great  won- 
der which  this  material  and  doubting  age  finds 
it  hardest  to  believe.  The  philosophy  of  the 
day  undertakes  the  task  of  explaining  all 
phenomena,  both  of  the  material  and  the  spir- 
itual world,  without  admitting  the  supernatu- 
ral interference  of  divine  power.  Common 
life  is  taken  up  more  and  more  with  toil  and 
hurry  and  social  competition.  And  between 
the  two  extremes,  there  are  too  few  to  say, 
"  AVe  would  see  Jesus."  There  is  too  little  sen- 
sibility to  the  awful  and  glorious  truth  that 
divine  power  is  still  in  the  world  to  make  a 
new  creation  of  spiritual  life  in  the  hearts  of 
men,  as  instantaneously  as  Lazarus  came  forth 
from  the  tomb  at  the  word  of  Jesus.     And  yet 


BETHANY.  289 

all  the  true  progress  of  the  world  towards  a 
higher  and  better  life,  must  spring  from  a 
more  full  acceptance  of  this  divine  theory  of 
spiritual  creation,  according  to  which  the  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins  are  made  new  creatures  in 
Christ  Jesus.  The  power  to  make  wicked  men 
holy,  to  change  the  ruling  purpose  of  the 
heart  from  bad  to  good,  is  more  needed  for  the 
improvement  of  mankind,  than  the  power  to 
multiply  the  productions  of  the  earth,  the 
inventions  of  art,  or  the  discoveries  of  science. 
When  once  Christ  has  brought  men  into  sym- 
pathy with  himself  by  the  mighty  appeal  of 
his  cross,  they  become  joint-heirs  with  him  of 
the  whole  boundless  creation,  and  they  have 
before  them  the  ages  of  eternity  in  which  to 
enjoy  their  possessions. 

When  Jesus  performed  the  great  miracle  of 
Bethany,  he  took  a  decisive  step  towards  the 
appointed  completion  of  his  earthly  life.  The 
work  was  seen  by  jealous  eyes,  and  it  was  soon 
reported  in  all  Jerusalem,  with  such  comments 
as  malice  and  falsehood  could  make.  His  ene- 
mies saw  that  what  they  did  for  his  destruc- 
tion, must  be  done  quickly;  for  they  could  not 

25 


290  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

long  inflame  the  passions  of  the  people  against 
one,  who  could  call  the  dead  from  the  grave  in 
the  open  light  of  day,  in  the  presence  of  many 
witnesses,  and  with  the  joower  of  a  single  word. 
From  that  day  forth  they  took  counsel  together 
how  they  might  put  him  to  death.  But  his 
hour  was  not  yet  fully  come.  He  must  make 
one  circuit  more  of  instruction  and  mercy,  upon 
the  borders  of  Samaria  and  Gralilee,  and  when 
he  returns,  two  months  later,  to  Bethany  for  the 
last  time,  the  great  week  of  his  passion  has  al- 
ready begun.  From  this  mountain  village, 
Avhere  he  restored  the  dead  to  life,  he  must  go 
forth  to  his  own  death.  From  this  quiet  home 
where  he  had  been  received  so  many  times  with 
loving  hospitality,  he  must  pass  through  the 
mockeries  of  Jerusalem  and  the  agony  of  the 
cross,  to  his  Father's  house  and  his  heavenly 
throne. 


JERUSALEM. 


Behold.,  %ve  go  up  to  Jenisalem  ;  a?id  the  Son  of  man  shall  be 
hi't  rayed  unto  the  chief  priests  and  unto  the  scribes,  a  fid  they  shall 
cotidemn  him  to  death,  and  shall  deliver  him  to  the  Gentiles  to 
mock,  and  to  scourge  and  to  crucify  him. — Matt.  xx.  i8,  19. 


VIII. 

JERUSALEM. 

RIVEJN  from  Bethlehem  by  the  wrath 
of  a  king,  expelled  from  J^^azareth  by 
the  violence  of  the  people,  received  at 
Capernaum  at  first  only  to  be  rejected  at  last, 
denied  the  protection  of  the  three  homes  which 
were  his  by  birth,  by  residence,  and  by  adoption, 
Jesus  comes  to  Jerusalem  to  be  betrayed  and 
to  Calvary  to  die.  Thirty  years  of  retirement, 
and  three  years  of  public  ministry  are  all  that 
the  world  Avill  endure  of  its  Messiah.  It  is 
not  enough  to  secure  him  acceptance  that  he 
heals  the  sick,  and  feeds  the  hungry,  and  raises 
the  dead.  It  is  not  enough  that  he  speaks  as 
never  man  spake,  and  does  the  works  which  no 
man  ever  did,  and  endures  the  contradiction  of 
sinners  with  the  meekness  and  majesty  of  infi- 
nite love. 

He  must  go  down  to  a  still  lower  depth  in 

25  *  293 


294  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

humiliation ;  he  must  take  upon  his  soul  the 
burden  of  a  greater  agony ;  he  must  give  his 
very  life  in  sacrilice,  before  the  stony  Avails  of 
prejudice  and  hatred  and  unbelief  will  yield 
and  give  him  access  to  the  hearts  of  men.  The 
testimony  of  the  divine  love  must  be  confirmed 
by  the  infinite  argument  of  the  cross,  before 
the  world  will  accept  its  own  Redeemer  or  con- 
sent to  be  saved. 

We  cannot  observe  our  Lord  too  closely 
Avhile  he  is  passing  through  the  closing  scenes 
of  his  earthly  life.  We  have  something  to 
learn  from  every  step  which  he  takes,  in  his 
firm  and  sure  approach  to  the  great  sacrifice  of 
Calvary. 

1.    THE    TEIUMPHAL    ENTRY. 

His  first  entrance  into  Jerusalem  on  the 
solemn  week  of  his  j^t'ission,  has  the  appearance 
of  a  triumph.  He  had  walked  up  the  wild  and 
weary  road  from  Jericho  and  from  the  Fords  of 
the  Jordan  to  Bethany,  and  had  spent  his  last 
earthly  Sabbath  ;it  the  house  of  his  friend  in 
that  mountain  village.  It  was  the  week  of  the 
Passover,  and  multitudes  of  pilgrims  were  on 


JERUSALP^M.  295 

their  way  from  Galilee,  to  keep  the  great  festi- 
val in  the  Holy  city.  Some  remained  with  him 
at  Bethany  on  the  day  of  rest ;  many  passed 
over  the  brow  of  Olivet  and  encamped  in  the 
gardens  and  orchards  on  the  eastern  slope  of 
the  mountain,  every  where  spreading  the  tid- 
ings that  the  Prophet  of  I^azareth  was  two 
miles  off  at  Bethany,  and  would  appear  in  the 
city  before  the  feast  had  closed. 

On  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the  first  day 
of  the  Jewish  week,  Jesus  renewed  his  journey, 
accompanied  by  a  great  multitude  from  Be- 
thany, who  were  eager  to  witness  his  reception 
in  the  city.  He  set  forth  knowingly  and  will- 
ingly to  meet  his  death,  when  the  new  life  of 
the  year  had  come,  and  the  whole  land  was 
green  and  blossoming  with  the  glory  of  spring. 
Taking  the  most  traveled  road  over  the  south- 
ern ridge  of  Olivet,  he  was  joined  by  a  still 
greater  multitude,  who  had  heard  of  his  com- 
ing, and  had  gone  forth  from  the  camps  on  the 
hill-sides  and  from  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  to 
meet  him.  When  the  two  great  processions 
met,  the  one  which  came  from  the  direction  of 
the  city  turned  and  went  before,  and  the  other 


296 


WALKS    AND    HOMES. 


which  started  out  from  Bethany  followed,  with 
Jesus  in  the  midst,  and,  both  united,  rent  the 
air  with  shouts  that  were  heard  in  all  the  streets 


f^Ox 


and  on  all  the  hill-sides  round  about  Jerusalem. 
Branches  were  broken  from  the  palms  by  the 
way-side  and  hastily  braided  into  mattings  to 


JERUSALEM.  297 

carpet  the  road.  Others  still  more  enthusiastic 
threw  off  their  outer  garments  and  spread  them 
in  the  way  to  be  trodden  upon  by  the  beast 
that  bore  the  Son  of  David.  And  so  far  were 
the  excited  multitude  from  exaggerating  the 
greatness  of  the  occasion  by  their  shouts  and 
demonstrations  of  joy,  that  Jesus  himself  said, 
the  stones  would  immediately  cry  out  were  the 
people  to  hold  their  peace. 

Rounding  the  southern  ridge  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  coming  out  upon  a  level  platform  of 
rock,  Jesus  beheld,  across  the  deep  ravine  of 
the  Kidron,  the  whole  magnificent  city  in  one 
full  and  instantaneous  view.  Conspicuous  above 
everything  else  the  golden  domes  and  pinnacles 
of  the  temple  rise  before  him  like  the  flame  of 
a  mighty  sacrifice.  The  whole  mass  of  com- 
pact streets  and  stone  houses  within  the  walls, 
is  crowded  with  people,  and  among  the  gardens 
and  vineyards  on  all  the  hill-sides  facing  the 
city  are  encamped  thousands  upon  thousands 
who  have  come  up  to  the  great  national  Feast. 
All  this  vast  population  is  moved  at  his  coming, 
and  the  multitude  around  him  lift  up  their 
voices  in  cries  of  welcome,  so  loud  that  some 


298  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

Avithin  the  city  walls,  hearing  the  sound  said, 
"The  world  has  gone  after  him." 

At  this  moment  of  supreme  triumph,  Jesus 
weeps.  JSTot  for  himself,  although  he  well  knew 
that  before  that  week  should  close,  the  hosannas 
of  the  multitudes  would  give  ]3lace  to  the  cry, 
"crucify  him."  i^Tot  because  his  work  had 
failed  and  his  mission  must  close  in  defeat  and 
disappointment.  He  weeps  over  doomed  and 
blinded  Jerusalem,  because  she  knows  not  the 
time  of  her  visitation.  He  weeps  because  the 
last  and  utmost  appeal  which  he  can  make  to 
the  hearts  of  men  by  his  death  on  the  cross 
will  still  be  rejected  by  many  to  their  own  de- 
struction. He  weeps  because  many,  by  contin- 
ued impenitence  and  unbelief,  would  bring  on 
themselves  wrath  unto  the  uttermost,  when 
they  might  have  been  saved  with  a  full  and 
everlasting  salvation. 

And  so  Jesus  begins  the  great  week  of  his 
passion  with  triumph  and  with  tears.  The 
earthly  triumph  will  soon  be  23ast.  But  it  will 
give  place  to  another,  when  he  shall  have  led 
captivity  captive,  and  the  angelic  host  shall 
form  the  dazzling  procession,  and  the  everlast- 


JERUSALEM. 


299 


ing  gates  of  heaven  shall  be  lifted  up  that  the 
king  of  glory  may  come  in.  The  sorrow  with 
which  Jesus  weeps  over  Jerusalem,  shall  give 
place  to  joy,  when  he  shall  look  back  upon  the 
travail  of  his  soul,  and  be  satisfied  with  the 
fruits  of  his  toil  and  suffering. 

2.    STEPS    TOWARDS    THE    CROSS. 

From  this  time  forward,  Jesus  pursued  the 
open  and  avowed  course  which  he  knew  must 


bring  him  to  the  cross.     For  a  time  he  had 
avoided  publicity,  and  had  kept  himself  out  of 


300  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

the  reach  of  those  who  were  plotting  togeiL^^r 
at  Jerusalem,  to  put  him  to  death.  But  now 
the  work  of  teaching  is  clone,  the  evidences  of 
his  divine  mission  are  complete,  and  he  goes 
voluntarily  to  put  himself  in  the  way  of  his 
enemies,  that  their  malice  may  become  the  in- 
strument of  completing  the  great  sacrifice  for 
the  world's  redemption. 

Descending  the  eastern  slope  of  Olivet  and 
crossing  the  Kidron,  Jesus  entered  the  city  at 
St.  Stephen's  gate,  and  went  up  and  showed 
himself  in  the  courts  of  the  temple,  with  the 
singing  and  shouting  multitudes  still  around 
him.  The  whole  city  Avas  moved.  The  scribes 
read  the  law  with  none  to  listen,  and  the  priests 
were  left  alone  with  the  evening  sacrifice,  for 
everybody  had  joined  the  eager  crowd  that 
were  swaying  and  surging  to  and  fro  in  the  en- 
deavor to  see  and  to  hear  the  Prophet  of  Naz- 
areth. 

Having  looked  around  silently  upon  all 
things,  Jesus  left  the  temple  and  the  city,  and 
returned  to  Bethanv  for  the  nioht.  The  first 
decisive  step  towards  the  great  sacrifice  had 
been  taken.     He  had  shown  himself  the  object 


JERUSALEM.  301 

of  supreme  interest  to  the  multitude,  and  so 
had  exeit^^d  the  envy  and  hatred  of  their  cus- 
tomary leaders  to  the  highest  degree.  He  had 
come  once  more  within  their  reach,  and  they 
were  already  intent  upon  new  plans  to  destroy 
him.  It  will  take  them  yet  four  days  more  to 
complete  their  dark  counsels,  and  then  w^hen 
they  demand  the  victim,  he  will  hold  himself 
ready  for  the  sacrifice. 

Monday  he  came  back  to  the  city,  and  made 
a  still  more  striking  exhibition  of  the  j)ower 
of  his  presence  over  men,  by  causing  all  that 
bought  and  sold  in  the  temple  to  leave  the  holy 
place,  and  to  take  their  tables  and  merchandise 
with  them  at  his  command.  Hardened,  selfish 
and  calculating  as  they  were,  they  could  not 
w^ithstand  the  authority  with  which  he  spoke. 
The  blind,  the  sick  and  the  lame  w^ere  brought 
to  him  in  great  numbers  and  he  healed  them. 
The  populace  had  been  induced  by  threats  or 
persuasion  to  hold  their  peace,  but  the  children 
in  the  temple  took  up  the  songs  and  the  cries 
of  the  previous  day,  and  sung,  "Hosanna  to 
the  Son  of  David."  AVhen  the  priests  and  the 
scribes  demanded  his  authority  for  what  he 

26 


302  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

did,  he  put  them  to  shame  before  all  the  peo- 
ple by  the  wisdom  of  his  reply.  And  so  when 
evening  was  come,  he  went  back  to  Bethany, 
leaving  them  still  more  enraged  and  intent 
upon  seeking  his  death. 

3.    THE    LAST    DAY    OF   PUBLIC   TEACHING. 

Tuesday,  he  came  again  to  the  city  and  this 
was  his  last  day  of  public  teaching.  His  ene- 
mies assailed  him  in  greater  numbers  and  with 
greater  subtility  than  ever  before.  When  one 
was  silenced  another  would  renew  the  assault, 
all  alike  endeavoring  to  ensnare  him  in  his 
words,  and  to  draw  from  him  some  expression 
which  could  be  used  as  an  accusation  against 
him  before  the  magistrates.  But  all  in  vain. 
They  only  induced  him  to  set  forth  before  all 
the  i^eople,  by  new  parables  and  in  a  more 
awful  light,  the  dreadful  doom  which  they 
would  bring  on  themselves,  on  the  temple  and 
the  holy  city,  by  rejecting  their  own  Messiah. 
He  pronounced  the  most  fearful  woes  upon  the 
blind  and  bigoted  leaders  of  the  people  in  their 
hearing  and  then  left  them.  This  was  enough. 
The  priests  and  scribes  will  see  to  it  that  the 


JERUSALEM.  303 

dreaded  voice  of  their  Reprover  shall  not  be 
heard  in  the  courts  of  the  temple,  or  in  the 
streets  of  the  city  any  more.  To-night  the  great 
council  will  meet  in  secret  session  at  the  palace 
of  the  high  priest,  and  the  betrayer  will  be 
there,  to  bargain  for  the  reward  of  iniquity,  in 
delivering  Jesus  into  their  hands. 

4.    THE    LAST    LOOK    AT    JERUSALEM. 

On  his  way  out  to  Bethany  that  evening, 
Jesus  paused  before  passing  the  ridge  of  Olivet 
and  sat  clown  with  his  disciples,  over  against 
the  temple,  to  look  back  upon  Jerusalem  for 
the  last  time.  The  sun  was  setting,  and  the 
whole  city,  with  the  surrounding  valleys  and 
hill-sides  alive  with  the  camps  of  pilgrims,  lay 
beneath  him  in  the  evening  light.  The  his- 
tory of  a  thousand  years,  the  divine  oracles 
speaking  b}^  a  thousand  voices,  the  monuments 
of  prophets,  patriarchs  and  kings,  the  vis- 
itations of  angels,  miraculous  interpositions 
in  judgment  and  in  blessing,  from  the  offering 
of  Isaac  and  the  building  of  the  temple,  were 
present  to  him,  as  he  looked  upon  Moriah  and 
Zion,  and  heard  the  murmur  and  the  evening 


304  WALKS    ANJJ    HOMES. 

songs  of  a  million  people  gathered  within  and 
around  the  walls  of  the  holy  city.  NoAvhere  on 
earth  was  it  possible  to  find  another  scene  of 
such  commanding  interest  as  that  which  lay 
before  the  eye  of  Jesus,  when  he  turned  to  look 
up(m  Jerusalem  for  the  last  time.  And  there 
he  sat  till  the  sun  went  down  and  the  stars 
shone,  and  the  already  risen  moon  grew  bright 
over  the  mountains  of  Moab.  There  he  poured 
forth,  in  the  most  solemn  and  touching  words, 
prophecy  and  warning  and  instruction,  con- 
cerning the  desolation  of  Jerusalem,  the  dis- 
persion of  the  Jewish  people,  the  preaching 
of  the  gospel  to  all  nations,  and  his  own  final 
coming  to  judge  the  world  in  righteousness. 
He  closed  this,  the  most  awful  and  sublime  of 
all  his  discourses,  with  the  distinct  and  solemn 
declaration  that  after  two  days  he  should  be 
betrayed  and  crucified.  Then  he  resumed  his 
walk  to  Bethany  and  rested  for  the  night. 

5.    THE    EEPOSE    OF    PREPAKATION. 

The  whole  of  the  following  day,  Wednesday, 
he  spent  in  retirement  at  his  chosen  and  quiet 
home  in  Bethany.     His  public  work  was  done, 


JERUSALEM.  305 

and  while  his  enemies  were  completing  their 
plans  for  his  destruction,  he  would  take  a  little 
time  to  gird  up  his  soul  for  the  trial  of  mockery 
and  scourging,  and  for  the  crowning  agony  of 
the  cross.  He  Avould  need  the  repose  of  two 
quiet  days  to  prepare  himself  for  the  last  sleep- 
less night,  and  for  the  long  torture  of  the  last 
dreadful  day.  When  he  leaves  the  quiet  vil- 
lage for  the  last  time  on  Thursday  afternoon, 
he  goes  to  be  betrayed  and  crucified.  His 
whole  body  and  soul  and  spirit  will  be  tasked 
with  the  most  exhausting  and  unceasing  inten- 
sity, until  he  bow^s  his  head  in  death  at  the 
ninth  hour,  on  Friday  afternoon. 

6.    THE    LAST   NIGHT. 

As  the  evening  of  Thursday  draws  near, 
Jesus  sets  forth  upon  his  last  walk  with  his 
disciples  before  his  passion.  We  do  not  know 
what  w^ords  of  farewell  w^ere  sj)oken  when  he 
parted  with  his  beloved  friends  at  Bethany, 
they  fondly  hoping  to  see  him  return  to  lodge 
with  them  as  before,  and  he  well  knowing  that 
his  next  resting  place  would  be  the  grave.  We 
are  not  told  what  he  said  to  his  disciples  as  he 

26  * 


306  AVALKS    AND    HOMES. 

walked  with  them  up  the  same  steep,  or  clown 
the  same  descent  of  Olivet,  where  the  multi- 
tudes hailed  his  coming  with  hosannas  four 
days  before.  We  do  not  know  whether  in  si- 
lence, or  with  weeping,  or  with  comforting- 
words,  he  passed  Gethsemane  and  crossed  the 
-Kidron,  and  climbed  up  the  ascent  to  St. 
Stephen's  gate.  But  from  the  moment  of  his 
arrival  at  the  upper  chamber  in  the  city,  where 
the  passover  was  prepared,  we  may  well  im- 
agine that  his  countenance  wore  an  unwonted 
tenderness  and  solemnity,  and  that  the  wonder- 
ing disciples  saw  the  foreshadowing  signs  of 
the  final  agony  uj^on  him.  The  awful  history 
of  this  last  night  and  the  following  day,  will  be 
studied  with  wonder  and  adoration  by  angels 
and  by  redeemed  men  forever.  We  can  now 
only  recite  its  most  familiar  facts  as  a  prepara- 
tion for  the  lessons  of  the  cross,  with  which 
this  book  must  close. 

Just  about  to  complete  his  earthly  humilia- 
tion and  to  return  to  the  throne  of  heaven 
with  all  power  in  his  hands  and  all  glory  upon 
his  head,  Jesus  teaches  his  disciples  the  great- 
ness of  humility.     While  they  are  contending 


JERUSALEM.  307 

with  each  other  for  the  highest  phice  in  his 
promised  kingdom,  he  girds  himself  as  a  ser- 
vant and  washes  the  feet  of  them  that  call  him 
Lord.  Just  about  to  oifer  himself,  the  pure 
and  spotless  Lamb  of  God,  in  the  great  and 
only  efficacious  sacrifice  for  sin,  he  finishes  the 
sacrifices  of  four  thousand  years  by  eating  the 
Passover  with  his  disciples.  In  place  of  the 
national  festival  which  the  Jewish  people  had 
observed  from  the  days  of  Moses,  he  institutes 
a  memorial  service,  to  be  kept  by  his  followers 
of  every  nation  to  the  end  of  time.  As  he 
looks  around  upon  the  chosen  company  of  his 
disciples,  the  dark  shadow  of  coming  treachery 
overclouds  and  troubles  his  soul,  and  groaning 
within  himself,  he  nerves  his  heart  to  make 
the  sad  declaration,  "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  me."  The 
disclosure  makes  the  company  of  the  disciples 
and  the  presence  of  the  Master  intolerable  to 
the  traitor.  He  goes  immediately  out,  and  it 
is  night — night  in  the  streets  of  blinded  and 
abandoned  Jerusalem,  night  in  the  councils  of 
the  enemies  of  Jesus,  night  in  the  soul  of  the 


308  WALKS   AXD    HOMES. 

betrayer,  night  upon  the  path  which  he  must 
tread  forever. 

No  sooner  has  the  dark  shadoAV  of  the  trai- 
tor's presence  left  the  room,  than  the  troubled 
cloud  j)asses  from  the  face  of  Jesus  and  he 
turns  to  his  remaining  disciples  with  the  light 
of  heaven  in  his  look.  And  now  he  pours 
forth  his  soul  in  words  of  love,  of  counsel  and 
of  prayer  which  shall  outlive  the  languages  of 
earth,  and  shall  be  sung  by  blest  voices  to  the 
music  of  heaven.  He  himself  joins  with  his 
disciples  in  singing  the  great  Hallelujah  song 
with  which  Israel  had  closed  the  Passover  for 
a  thousand  years,  "  Praise  the  Lord  all  ye  na- 
tions, praise  him  all  ye  people,  for  his  merciful 
kindness  is  great  towards  us,  his  mercy  endur- 
eth  forever." 

He  knows  where  the  betrayer  will  expect  to 
find  him  at  the  midnight  hour,  and  thither  he 
goes  that  he  may  be  ready  when  the  officers 
and  soldiers  come  with  Judas  for  their  guide 
to  take  him.  Once  more  through  the  silent 
street  and  out  of  the  Eastern  gate,  and  across 
the  Kidron  valley,  beneath  the  shadows  which 
olive  trees  cast  in  the  full  moonlight,  Jesus 


JERUSALEM.  309 

goes  to  his  place  of  prayer.  The  betrayer 
knew  the  spot,  for  Jesus  had  often  been  there 
before  with  his  disciples.  To  this  day,  in 
spite  of  all  intervening  changes,  the  scene  can 
be  identified  with  reasonable  accuracy,  and  it 
is  the  most  solemn  and  affecting  of  all  the 
''holy  places"  in  Palestine.  The  aged  olive 
trees,  with  gnarled  and  distorted  trunks, 
appearing  as  if  bent  and  twisted  with  the  tor- 
ture of  centuries  are  the  most  fitting  monu- 
ment, if  anything  be  needed  to  mark  the  sa- 
cred ground. 

While  waiting  for  the  armed  band  to  appear, 
Jesus  is  again  troubled  in  spirit,  and  his  soul 
is  bowed  down  under  the  weight  of  a  more 
awful  and  mysterious  agony  than  had  ever 
come  upon  him  before.  He  is  overcome  with 
a  strange  amazement,  an  inexplicable  and 
shuddering  dread,  a  horror  of  great  darkness, 
an  exceeding  great  sorrow  embittered  with 
more  than  the  bitterness  of  death.  The  sweat, 
wrung  out  from  the  inward  torture,  falls  in 
bloody  drops  upon  the  ground.  Thrice  he 
]3rays  in  the  same  words  that  the  cup  may 
pass  from  him.     And  it  seems  a  relief  from 


310  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

something  worse  when  the  armed  band  ap- 
pears, and  he  goes  forth  to  give  himself  up. 
His  troubled  countenance  at  once  assumes  so 
much  of  its  serene  and  godlike  majesty,  that 
the  hardened  soldiers  are  struck  to  the  ground 
with  awe  before  him.  But  the  delay  is  only 
momentary.  He  offers  himself  again,  and 
they  bind  him  and  lead  him  awa}^ 

It  is  now  past  midnight,  and  from  this  time 
forward  the  course  of  events  in  this  awful  his- 
tory runs  swiftly  on  to  the  closing  scene  on  the 
cross.  First  walking  painfully  with  bound 
hands  amid  the  rude  and  merciless  mob,  Jesus 
is  hurried  down  and  up  the  steep  path,  through 
the  city  gate  to  the  house  of  Annas.  'Not  for 
a  formal  trial  did  they  bring  him  there,  but 
only  that  llie  old  father-in-law  of  the  high 
priest,  the  man  whose  counsel  was  of  the  high- 
est authority  in  the  nation,  might  have  the 
dreadful  satisfaction  of  seeing  Jesus  of  Xaza- 
reth  a  prisoner.  Then  out  again  into  the  dark, 
narrow  streets,  finding  their  way  by  the  uncer- 
tain light  of  lanterns  and  torches,  they  hurry 
their  unresisting  victim  with  insults  and  mock- 
ery to  the  palace  of  Caiaphas. 


JERUSALEM.  311 

Here  he  is  questioned  by  the  high  priest, 
testified  against  by  false  witnesses,  smitten  by 
the  officers,  reviled  by  the  whole  assembly, 
condemned  to  death  by  the  council,  and  still 
after  the  decision,  kept  exposed  to  every  form 
of  contemptuous  speech  and  personal  abuse,  till 
the  break  of  day.  And  while  he  is  subjected 
to  such  mockery  from  his  enemies,  the  heart 
of  Jesus  is  pierced  with  a  deeper  pang,  by 
hearing  his  own  honored  and  foremost  disciple 
Peter  deny,  with  bitter  oaths  and  blasphemy, 
that  he  ever  knew  him. 

The  morning  of  Friday  breaks,  a  day  to  be 
recorded  as  the  greatest  of  all  the  days  of  time ; 
a  day  to  be  remembered  long  as  redeemed  souls 
remember  the  sacrifice  which  purchased  for 
them  a  blessed  immortality.  The  sentence  of 
the  Sanhedrim  must  now  be  confirmed,  and  ex- 
ecuted by  the  civil  power,  or  it  will  be  of  no 
effect.  And  the  enemies  of  Jesus  hurry  on 
their  dreadful  work  with  such  malignant  and 
impetuous  zeal,  that  their  prisoner,  who  was 
seized  in  Gethsemane,  without  the  city,  at  mid- 
night, has  been  led  to  and  fro  through  many 
streets,  to  four  different  palaces  or  tribunals, 


312  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

has  been  arraigned  twice  before  the  high 
priests,  twice  before  the  Sanhedrim,  twice  before 
Pilate,  once  before  Herod,  has  been  once  robed 
and  crowned  in  mockery,  twice  scourged,  every- 
where mocked  and  condemned,  led  out  of  the 
city  wall,  and  by  nine  o'clock,  w^hen  the  sun  is 
looking  over  the  ridge  of  Olivet  into  the  deep 
valley  of  the  Kidron,  he  is  already  nailed  to 
the  cross.  In  six  hours  more,  the  most  mo- 
mentous hours  in  the  world's  history,  the  awful 
tragedy  is  finished,  and  the  incarnate  Son  of 
God  bows  his  head  in  death. 

It  is  all  one  act,  one  mysterious  and  infinite 
passion,  from  the  agony  in  Gethsemane  to  the 
last  bitter  cry  upon  Calvary.  The  betrayal, 
the  arrest,  the  arraignment,  the  false  accusa- 
tion, the  mockery,  the  denial,  the  scourging, 
the  final  sentence  and  its  execution,  must  all 
unite  to  make  up  the  meaning  of  that  most 
sacred  and  awful  mystery,  the  cross  of  Christ. 

The  most  sorrowful  procession  that  ever 
moved  on  this  earth,  was  that  in  which  Jesus 
was  led  out  of  the  city  to  be  crucified,  amid 
the  wail  of  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
mockerv  of  the  multitude  tliat  clamored  for  his 


JERUSALEM.  313 

death.  But  we  cannot  describe  the  street  along 
which  the  procession  passed.  We  do  not  know 
where  the  cross  was  set  up.  And  it  is  well 
that  we  do  not,  else  the  spot  might  draw  even 
spiritual  worshippers  to  itself,  rather  than  to 
him  by  whose  sufferings  it  was  consecrated. 

What  we  do  know  of  the  death  of  Christ,  is 
of  far  greater  importance  to  us  than  the  pre- 
cise spot  or  time  of  his  crucifixion.  If  the 
material  cross  itself  were  miraculously  multi- 
plied and  set  up  as  an  object  of  reverence  in 
every  Christian  sanctuary,  it  might  only  de- 
grade our  conceptions  of  the  spiritual  cross,  and 
divert  our  trust  from  the  living,  immortal 
Christ  himself,  to  things  that  change  and  pass 
away. 

Nevertheless  it  will  do  us  all  good,  frequently 
and  solemnly  to  review  the  closing  scenes  in 
the  Saviour's  earthly  life.  Amid  all  the  mate- 
rial and  worldly  passions,  by  which  we  are 
beset  and  tempted,  we  shall  learn  many  salu- 
tary lessons,  by  going  back  in  memory,  and 
spending  a  thoughtful  hour,  in  the  endeavor  to 
strengthen  our  faith  and  quicken  our  love  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross.     What  then  are  the  les- 


314  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

sons  which  the  divine  Passion,  the  infinite 
sacrifice,  the  true  and  redemptive  Cross  of 
Christ  is  fitted  to  teach  ? 

7.    THE    LESSONS   OF    THE    CEOSS. 

First  of  all  we  may  learn  that  lesson  which 
is  the  beginning  of  life  and  peace  to  weary 
souls,  the  lesson  of  penitence  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross.  It  was  for  our  sins  that  Christ  was  lifted 
up.  It  was  to  save  us  from  shame  and  ever- 
lasting contempt,  that  he  consented  to  have  the 
scorn  and  mockery  of  the  world  heaped  upon 
him.  It  was  the  thick  cloud  of  our  transgres- 
sions, that  poured  darkness  upon  his  soul,  and 
extorted  from  him  the  cry,  as  of  one  smitten 
and  forsaken  of  God.  He  was  put  to  grief  and 
he  carried  our  sorrows,  that  he  might  pour  the 
oil  of  gladness  into  our  stricken  hearts,  and 
that  God's  OAvn  hand  might  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  our  eyes  forever.  He  consented  to  be 
numbered  among  transgressors,  and  to  make 
his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  that  we  might  be 
justified  before  God,  that  all  our  wanderings 
might  be  healed,  and  that  we  might  be  restored 


JERUSALEM.  315 

to  our  Father's  house  and  find  rest  and  peace 
forever. 

And  if  anything  will  move  our  hearts  to 
penitence  for  our  sins,  it  must  be  the  great 
sight  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  seen  by 
faith,  lifted  up  on  the  cross,  and  suffering  that 
we  might  be  saved,  treated  as  a  transgressor 
that  we  might  be  forgiven,  dying  that  we 
mio-ht  live  and  be  alive  for  evermore.  Everv- 
thing  that  is  generous,  noble  and  manly  in 
our  nature  must  move  us  to  sorrow  for  our 
sins,  when  we  see  how  much  an  infinitely  gen- 
erous and  holy  Saviour  is  willing  to  suffer  for 
our  sake. 

Sometimes  it  is  enough  to  break  the  hard 
heart  of  a  wicked  son  when  he  sees  an  affec- 
tionate and  faithful  mother  mournino-  over  his 
misconduct,  smitten  with  grief  for  the  shame 
and  ruin  which  he  is  bringing  on  himself. 
He  knows  that  is  only  from  generous  and  self- 
sacrificing  love  for  him  that  his  mother's  heart 
bleeds.  And  it  makes  him  seem  to  himself 
worse  than  a  brute  to  be  insensible  while  she  is 
so  deeply  moved  in  his  behalf.  The  only  tie 
that  has  saved  many  a  son  from  profligacy  and 


316  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

destruction,  has  been  the  bond  of  love  which 
bound  him  to  a  mother's  heart. 

But  the  love  of  Jesus  is  infinitely  more  gen- 
erous, patient  and  self-denying  than  a  mother's 
love.  He  has  been  more  deeply  afflicted  by 
our  ingratitude  and  disobedience  than  any 
mother  ever  was  by  the  misconduct  of  her 
child.  He  has  longed  and  labored  for  our 
eternal  salvation  more  earnestly  than  any 
human  parent  ever  did  for  the  welfare  of  an 
only  son. 

As  we  stand  and  gaze  by  faith  upon  the 
cross  of  Jesus,  every  expression  of  his  ago- 
nized countenance,  every  drop  of  blood  flowing 
from  his  many  wounds,  every  convulsion  Avith 
which  the  torture  of  crucifixion  shakes  his 
frame,  every  groan  which  the  hiding  of  his 
Father's  face  extorts  from  his  troubled  soul, 
seems  to  Sciy  to  us,  "It  is  for  thee  that  these 
pangs  are  borne.  It  is  that  thou  mayest  be 
forgiven  that  I  consent  to  have  all  shames  and 
crimes  imputed  to  me.  It  is  to  blot  out  the 
record  of  thy  dark  and  dreadful  iniquity  that 
my  blood  is  shed.  The  grave  shall  close  over 
me  with  its  horror  of  great  darkness  that  I 


JERUSALEM.  317 

may  spoil  the  dominions  of  death  and  unbar 
the  gates  of  life  for  thee.  I  submit  to  all  this 
shame  and  agony  becatTse  I  have  loved  thee 
with  an  everlasting  love,  and  I  could  not  rest 
till  I  had  brought  back  thy  wayward  and  wan- 
dering soul  to  God." 

With  such  tender  entreaty  does  the  cross  of 
Christ  plead  with  every  one  of  us  against  our 
sins,  the  moment  we  actually  believe  that  he 
died  for  us.  This  one  appeal  has  produced  in 
the  rude  savage  and  the  cultivated  sceptic,  the 
gentleness  of  the  lamb  and  the  docility  of  the 
child.  And  who  would  not  mourn  and  be  in 
bitterness  of  soul  for  his  sins,  when  he  sees  them 
laid  upon  the  holy  Son  of  God  and  the  meek  and 
mighty  sufferer  is  crushed  to  the  very  grave  by 
the  load?  When  reason  fails  to  convince,  when 
warning  and  invitation  have  been  heard  in 
vain,  when  chastisement  and  blessing  have 
been  equally  slighted,  when  the  hoj^e  of  hea- 
ven no  longer  allures  and  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment has  lost  its  power,  then  still  may  the 
infinite  generosity  of  Jesus  in  suifering  for  sin- 
ners touch  the  heart  and  unseal  the  fountain 
of  tears. 

27  * 


318  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

And  when  we  desire  deeper  conviction,  when 
we  wish  to  be  more  penitent,  and  wonder  that 
we  have  so  little  sorrow  for  our  sins,  then  we 
niust  come  nearer  to  the  cross.  We  must  con- 
sider more  earnestly  the  shame  and  the  glory, 
the  life  and  the  death,  the  justice  and  the  mercy 
that  so  meet  and  harmonize  in  the  cross,  that 
God  is  just  and  the  guilty  are  forgiven,  Jesus 
dies  and  sinners  live,  shame  is  poured  upon 
the  Son  of  the  Highest  and  the  ransomed  soul 
is  crowned  with  eternal  glory.  Thus,  studying 
anew  the  great  mystery  of  innocence  suffering 
for  the  guilty,  weighing  again  the  mighty  ar- 
gument by  which  divine  Love  convinces  of 
sin,  we  shall  the  more  fervently  offer  the  sacri- 
fice of  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  which 
God  will  not  despise.  And  he  who  will  not 
take  his  fitting  place,  in  humble  penitence  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  may  possess  all  that  the 
world  can  give  and  yet  be  poor,  he  may  learn 
all  that  the  world  can  teach,  and  yet  never  be- 
come wise  unto  salvation. 

We  may  learn  the  lesson  of  humility,  as  we 
go  back  by  faith  and  stand  on  the  mount  of  the 
great  expiation.     Who  is  this  helpless  victim 


JERUSALEM.  319 

nailed  in  agony  to  the  accursed  tree?  Nay, 
call  him  not  helpless.  He  could  summon  le- 
gions of  God's  mighty  angels  to  his  assistance 
with  a  word.  He  could  doom  all  his  enemies 
to  everlasting  destruction  in  a  moment.  He 
could  make  all  the  powers  and  terrors  of  the 
universe  swift  ministers  to  execute  his  ven- 
geance, Avhile  his  wrath  was  kindled  but  a 
little. 

And  yet  he  gives  himself,  as  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter.  When  reviled  he  threatens  not. 
When  accused  by  false  witnesses,  he  opens  not 
his  mouth.  On  the  cross  itself,  he  prays  for 
those  that  nailed  him  there.  Cruel  Roman  and 
scoffing  Jew  unite  to  torture  his  life,  and  to 
dishonor  his  death,  and  yet  he  gives  himself 
to  be  smitten  and  scorned  without  a  murmur- 
ing word.  And  this  unresisting,  uncomplain- 
ing victim  is  the  Son  of  God.  This  is  he  whose 
throne  is  from  everlasting,  and  whose  kingdom 
shall  have  no  end.  The  darkened  heavens, 
the  quaking  earth,  and  the  rising  dead  attest 
the  divinity  which  man  denies. 

Come  then,  ye  proud  and  vainglorious,  whose 
hearts  are  ever  panting  for  some  l)etty  distinc- 


320  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

tion  above  your  fellow-men,  estimate  the  value 
of  the  highest  earthly  glory,  while  seeing  the 
Son  of  God  rejected  and  despised  for  your 
sake.  Come,  ye  rich,  and  take  account  of  all 
your  perishable  possessions  within  sight  of 
that  blood  which  was  shed  as  a  ransom  for  your 
sins.  Come,  ye  complainers  and  murmurers, 
who  are  ever  at  conflict  with  the  ways  of  provi- 
dence and  the  will  of  your  fellow-men  ;  repeat 
the  tale  of  your  wrongs  and  suiferings,  within 
hearing  of  the  voice  which  prays  for  revilers 
and  murderers, — "  Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do."  Come,  ye  pas- 
sionate and  contentious,  whose  anger  kindles 
with  provocation  as  the  flax  kindles  in  the 
flame  ;  see,  with  what  unmurmuring  meekness, 
the  Son  of  God  endures  the  contradiction  of 
sinners,  and  learn  from  him  to  pour  contempt 
on  all  your  pride.  Come,  ye  poor  and  needy, 
who  are  tempted  to  envy  the  rich  and  to  think 
that  every  earthly  blessing  can  be  bought  with 
money;  see  to  what  a  depth  of  destitution 
Christ  submits  for  your  sake,  and  learn  from 
the  cross  to  prize  above  all  earthly  possessions, 


JERUSALEM.  321 

the  inheritance  of  life  which  he  impoverished 
himself  to  purchase  and  to  bestow  on  you. 

And  if  any  of  us  are  ever  to  subdue  the 
pride  and  vanity  of  our  hearts,  if  we  are  ever 
to  bring  ourselves  into  familiar  and  holy  con- 
verse with  things  unseen  and  eternal,  we  must 
learn  to  estimate  all  human  interests  in  the 
light  which  shines  from  the  cross.  We  must 
fathom  the  depths  of  the  humiliation  to  wdiich 
the  Son  of  God  submitted,  that  he  might  raise 
us  up  from  our  fallen  state.  We  must  consider 
how  great  the  sacrifice  which  he  must  needs 
make  in  his  own  person,  to  bring  back  our 
wandering  souls  to  his  Father's  house.  We 
must  lay  open  our  hearts  to  the  mighty  con- 
straint of  that  love,  wdiich  could  come  forth 
from  the  throne  of  heaven,  and  search  through 
all  the  wastes  of  sin  and  misery  to  recover  the 
lost.  While  thus  looking  with  penitence  and 
trust  upon  him  v/hom  our  sins  have  pierced 
and  our  sorrows  have  touched,  we  shall  acquire 
strength  to  overcome  the  world.  Standing- 
fast  in  the  great  liberty  wherewith  the  cross  has 
set   us   free,  we  shall   rejoice  to  bring  every 


322  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

thought  and  desire  into  willing  and  happy 
captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ. 

The  cross  of  Christ  displays  the  character  of 
God  in  the  most  attractive  light.  If  it  were 
not  for  the  cross,  we  should  not  know  our 
Father  in  heaven.  We  should  not  dare  to  call 
ourselves  children  of  the  Most  High.  We 
should  not  dare  to  ascribe  to  the  supreme  and 
eternal  Judge,  the  relentings  and  compassions 
of  an  earthly  parent's  heart.  Our  present  life 
would  be  a  pitiless  and  hopeless  orphanage, 
and  the  hour  of  death  would  be  the  beginning 
of  endless  despair. 

But  when  we  see  the  glory  of  the  eternal 
Father  shining  in  the  face  of  the  divine  and 
co-eternal  Son,  we  are  attracted  by  infinite 
grace  and  benignity,  we  rejoice  in  the  accents 
of  paternal  love.  Without  the  cross  of  Christ, 
we  never  could  believe  that  the  infinite  One 
pities  our  infirmities  as  a  human  father  pities 
his  own  children.  We  might  concede,  as  a 
logical  necessity,  the  existence  of  one  supreme 
Creator  and  Governor  of  the  universe.  We 
might  discern  many  evidences  of  his  wisdom 
and  power  in  the  world  around  us.     But  we 


JERUSALEM.  323 

slioukl  not  know  that  we  had  a  Father  to  love 
us,  with  infinite  and  everhasting  love,  to  pity 
us  with  a  parent's  tender  pity,  to  draw  us  to 
himself  with  more  than  a  mother's  yearning 
toward  a  wayward  child. 

It  is  only  wdien  we  come  near  to  the  cross 
of  Jesus,  that  w^e  see  the  infinite  God  manifest- 
ing such  paternal  tenderness  and  condescension 
towards  us.  Every  pang,  every  degree  of  shame 
that  the  holy  and  the  divine  Redeemer  suffers 
for  our  sake,  teaches  us  better  than  a  thousand 
arguments,  that  Grod  is  love,  that  he  loves  us, 
and  that  he  has  given  his  Son  for  our  salvation, 
with  a  father's  affectionate  and  self- forgetting 
generosity.  This  is  the  great  revelation  of  the 
cross,  the  holy  and  the  mighty  God,  the  Maker 
of  all  worlds  and  the  absolute  Arbiter  of  all 
destinies,  revealed  as  a  compassionate  and  for- 
giving Father. 

And  this  knowledge  of  God  is  worth  infinitely 
more  to  us,  than  all  that  the  schools  of  philoso- 
phy, can  teach  about  the  Creator  and  Governor 
of  the  universe.  AVe  see  only  one  side  of  the 
character  of  God,  when  we  contemplate  his 
greatness    and    power,   his  justice    and    truth. 


324  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

His  greatness  miglit  not  condescend  to  our 
feebleness,  and  then  we  should  be  desolate  and 
helpless.  His  power  might  crush  us,  as  we 
tread  by  accident  or  by  design  upon  a  worm  in 
the  dust,  and  then  we  are  ruined.  His  justice 
is  terrible  to  us,  because  we  are  sinners.  His 
truth  exposes  our  guilt  and  puts  us  to  shame 
forever. 

But  when  we  look  to  the  crucified  One  of 
Calvary  for  all  that  we  need  most  to  know  of 
Grod,  when  we  study  the  divine  character  in  the 
light  of  the  cross,  we  see  mercy,  tenderness 
and  foro-iveness  blendino-  harmoniously  with 
the  awful  attributes  of  holiness,  justice  and 
power,  and  then  we  find  a  Father  in  him  of 
whom  our  sins  made  us  afraid.  Instead  of 
fleeing  from  him,  we  rush  to  his  arms  for  pro- 
tection. The  throne  that  was  high  and  terrible 
to  us  in  our  unbelief,  becomes  beautiful  and  won- 
drously  attractive,  when  we  behold  in  the  midst 
of  it.  One  bearing  the  signs  of  having  suifered 
for  us,  and  we  hide  ourselves  beneath  its  shadow 
when  the  storm  of  vengeance  threatens  to 
sweep  us  away. 

0   most  glorious  revelation  of  God  wdiich 


JERUSALEM.  325 

shows  us  a  Father,  infinite  and  most  holy,  yet 
forgiving  and  reconciling  us  to  himself  by  the 
cross.  0,  most  excellent  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ  which  reveals  the  hidden  depths  of  sin 
in  our  hearts,  and  yet  shows  us  the  w^riting  of 
the  finger  of  God  on  the  cloud  of  vengeance, 
"  Live,  0  ye  guilty  and  penitent  souls,  live  for 
I  have  found  a  ransom."  The  deep  and  angry 
darkness  which  overhung  our  future  pathway 
is  transfigured  and  changed  to  glory  in  the 
light  of  revealed  mercy.  We  see  the  shining 
domes  and  the  sapphire  walls  of  the  heavenly 
city  outlined  upon  the  horizon  where  the  sun 
of  this  earthly  life  goes  down.  The  infinite 
gulf  of  perdition,  which  sin  had  disclosed 
yawning  across  our  pathway,  is  bridged  over 
by  the  cross,  and  redeemed  souls  pass  in 
safety  wdth  songs  and  everlasting  joy.  We 
join  the  glorious  company,  and  thenceforth 
the  journey  of  life  is  only  a  return  to  our 
Father's  house.  Everything  great  and  awful 
in  the  character  of  God  puts  on  an  aspect  of 
beauty  and  attraction,  and  we  are  supremely 
drawn  to  him  of  whom  in  our  sinful  and 
unbelieving  state  we  were  most  afraid. 

28 


0--'b  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

To  see  Grod  in  such  a  character,  we  must 
gather  around  the  cross.  Christ  and  him  cru- 
cified must  become  the  great  and  commanding- 
theme  of  our  most  earnest  thought  and  of  our 
most  joyful  emotion.  Salvation  by  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb  must  be  fully  accepted  as  the 
great  inheritance  of  the  future  and  the  infinite 
compensation  for  all  the  losses  and  afflictions 
of  this  present  time.  The  sorest  chastisements 
become  precious  and  blessed  to  us  the  moment 
we  see  from  whom  they  come,  and  for  what 
purpose  they  are  sent.  Believing  that  Christ 
was  crucified  for  our  sins,  we  ask  no  greater 
pledge  of  our  Father's  love ;  we  cannot  be  told 
more  plainly  that  the  burden  of  our  sins  and 
sorrows  has  been  laid  upon  One  who  is  merci- 
ful to  forgive  and  mighty  to  save.  We  can 
receive  everything  with  gratitude  from  that 
hand  which  was  nailed  to  the  cross,  we  can 
trust  everything  to  that  love  which  could  die 
that  we  might  live. 

This  great  mystery  of  the  cross  explains  all 
other  mysteries,  and  is  itself  dark  to  our 
vision  only  from  excess  of  light.  The  doubt- 
ino'  dare  not  receive  it  because  it  means  so 


JERUSALEM.  327 

much.  The  philosopher  will  not  receive  it 
because  it  puts  all  his  proud  theories  to  shame. 
The  worklling  will  not  receive  it  because  it 
draws  and  persuades  and  commands  with  such 
awful  authority  to  a  spiritual  and  a  holy  life. 
But  all  who  look  to  Christ  for  the  fullest  reve- 
lation of  the  divine  glory,  find  that  it  is  the 
blessedness  of  life  to  believe  in  him ;  blessed 
to  follow  wherever  Christ  leads  the  way ; 
blessed  to  bear  whatever  burdens  Christ 
imposes ;  blessed  to  die  in  the  hope  of  a  resur- 
rection which  shall  reveal  Christ  as  he  is  upon 
the  throne  of  heaven,  coequal  with  the  Father, 
and  clothed  with  the  glory  that  he  had  before 
the  Avorld  was. 

If,  then,  we  would  see  the  character  of  God 
in  its  most  complete  and  gracious  manifesta- 
tion ;  if  we  would  find  out  the  meaning  of 
that  great  and  precious  name.  Our  Father  ; 
if  we  would  know  the  exceeding  greatness  of 
the  inheritance  which  that  Father  freely  be- 
stows upon  his  redeemed  and  adopted  children 
we  must  look  in  faith  upon  the  cross  and  so 
beo'in  the  studv  which  shall  be  "the  science 
and  the  song  of  all  eternity."     We  must  be- 


328  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

lieve  that  Christ  crucified  is  our  living,  per- 
sonal and  divine  Saviour ;  that  all  he  suffered 
was  for  our  sake ;  that  his  sacrificial  death  is 
the  o-reat  revelation  which  God  makes  of  him- 
self  to  the  understanding  and  the  heart ;  and 
then  we  shall  have  a  higher  wisdom  than  the 
great  masters  in  liuman  philosophy  ever 
taught.  We  shall  have  acquired  possessions 
more  precious  than  all  the  riches  of  the  earth 
can  buy,  a  pure  heart,  a  peaceful  conscience 
and  a  hope  that  can  conquer  death. 

We  must  look  to  the  cross  to  learn  the 
worth  of  the  human  soul,  the  true  value  and 
greatness  of  man.  The  question  of  our  own 
immortality  and  of  our  capacity  for  endless 
blessedness  beyond  the  grave,  is  settled  at  once 
and  forever,  the  moment  w^e  see  Jesus  as  he  is. 
Beholding  the  incarnate  Son  of  the  Highest 
nailed  in  agony  to  the  accursed  tree,  we  see  in 
a  clearer  light  than  any  reasoning  can  show, 
the  punishment  due  to  transgression  of  the 
divine  law,  the  infinite  evil  of  sin  in  itself,  the 
utter  and  endless  ruin  that  awaits  the  wan- 
derer from  God. 

For  whom  does  this  divine  Saviour  suffer 


JERUSALEM.  329 

and  die?  For  what  purpose  does  he  give  him- 
self to  such  terrible  shame  and  agony  ?  Is  it 
for  a  child  of  the  dust  whose  life  begins  and 
ends  with  earth  and  time  ?  Is  it  for  the  res- 
cue of  souls  from  dangers  that  imagination 
creates  ?  Is  it  for  the  forgiveness  of  sins  that 
can  never  deserve  the  doom  of  eternal  death  ? 

Oh  !  no.  This  infinite  and  awful  sacrifice  of 
Calvary  could  be  offered  only  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  a  soul  that  was  infinitely  precious. 
This  great  ransom  could  be  paid  only  for 
deliverance  from  endless  and  immitigable 
despair.  The  great  creating  Father,  infinitely 
rich  as  he  is  in  all  the  resources  of  wisdom 
and  power,  would  not  give  his  only  begotten 
Son  to  death,  unless  the  sacrifice  were  attended 
with  a  compensation  that  would  fill  the  uni- 
verse with  praise  and  endure  throughout  all 
ages.  The  Redeemer  himself  could  not  be 
satisfied  with  the  travail  of  his  soul  in  suffer- 
ing for  sinners,  unless  the  fruits  of  his  conflict 
with  the  powers  of  darkness  should  be  glory 
and  joy  forever  and  ever. 

And  such  is  the  greatness  of  man,  such  is 
the  value  of  one  human  soul,  that  the  almighty 


330  WALKS   AND    HOMES. 

Father  is  satisfied  with  the  infinite  price  which 
he  pays  for  our  salvation  in  the  death  of  his 
own  Son.  It  was  for  the  joy  set  before  him  in 
accomplishing  so  great  a  salvation  that  Christ 
himself  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame. 
So  awful  was  the  doom  from  which  sinners 
needed  to  be  saved,  so  exalted  and  lasting  the 
glory  which  they  might  attain  if  redeemed, 
that  God  was  pleased  to  lay  our  iniquities  upon 
his  holy  and  beloved  Son,  and  to  put  him  to 
grief  for  our  sake.  And  we  may  be  sure  that 
infinite  love  itself  would  not  have  submitted 
to  such  a  sacrifice,  had  it  not  been  to  save  us 
from  the  greatest  conceivable  woe ;  had  it  not 
been  to  display  wisdom  and  mercy  in  such  ful- 
ness as  to  fill  the  universe  of  holy  beings  with 
gratitude  and  praise. 

And  our  own  greatness,  the  infinite  price  at 
which  God  estimates  the  value  of  the  human 
soul,  is  best  seen  in  the  greatness  of  the  ran- 
som paid  for  our  redemption.  If  we  possessed 
the  treasures  and  revenues  of  empire,  if  we 
could  command  the  riches  and  glories  of  the 
whole  earth  it  would  be  infinite  loss  to  give 
them   all  in  exchange  for  the  inheritance  of 


JERUSALEM.  331 

life  which  is  freely  oifered  to  us  all  through  the 
blood  of  the  cross.  There  was  but  one  being 
in  the  universe  great  and  mighty  enough  to 
bestow  a  title  to  that  high  estate  upon  the 
worthless  and  the  guilty,  and  he  could  do  it 
only  by  making  his  own  soul  an  offering  for  sin. 
We  often  hear  it  asked  how  much  is  a  man 
worth  ?  To  answer  that  question  we  must  go 
to  Calvary.  In  the  mystery  and  glory  of  the 
cross,  we  can  best  learn  the  price  at  which  God 
estimates  the  value  of  man,  any  man,  the 
poorest  and  lowdiest  on  earth ;  for  it  was  for  such 
that  the  great  sacrifice  of  the  cross  was  made. 
How  much  is  a  man  worth  ?  I  will  tell  you  wdien 
you  estimate  for  me  the  height  of  that  glory 
from  which  Christ  came  down  to  die  that  man 
might  be  saved.  I  will  tell  you  when  you 
have  told  me  how  many  worlds  are  uj)held  by 
the  power  of  him  who  cried  in  agony  upon  the 
cross,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me?"  I  will  tell  you  when  you  have 
counted  for  me  the  everlasting  years  during 
which  Christ  had  reigned  above  all  thrones  and 
powers,  when  he  bowed  his  head  in  death,  say- 
ing, "It  is  finished." 


332  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

I  will  tell  how  much  the  poorest  and  most 
unfriended  man  in  all  the  world  is  worth,  when 
vou  have  measured  for  me  the  heig-ht  and 
depth  and  length  and  breadth  of  the  love  of 
Christ,  displayed  in  man's  redemption ;  when 
you  have  searched  through  all  the  deeps  of  the 
prison-house  of  despair,  and  summed  up  all 
the  wailings  of  lost  souls  in  the  habitation  of 
darkness;  when  you  have  heard  every  voice, 
and  measured  the  joy  of  OA^ery  heart  that  shall 
sing  the  song  of  redemption  forever  and  ever ; 
when  you  have  estimated  the  flood  of  glory 
and  gladness,  that  shall  be  poured  upon  the 
universe  of  immortal  beings,  by  the  redeeming 
work  of  Christ  in  the  endless  ages  to  come ; 
when  you  have  felt  and  comprehended  the  in- 
finite joy  with  which  the  Redeemer  himself 
rejoices  over  the  salvation  of  the  lost ;  when 
you  have  done  all  this  I  will  tell  you  how  much 
the  poorest  man  on  earth  is  Avorth. 

And  I  should  need  to  have  all  these  esti- 
mates made  for  me,  and  I  should  need  the 
faculty  to  comprehend  the  infinite  result,  before 
I  could  tell  how  manv  and  how  strono'  are  the 
reasons,  whv  anv  one  individual   man  should 


JERUSALEM.  333 

trust  in  Christ  for  the  salvation  of  his  own 
soul.  JNTo  process  of  reasoning,  no  impassioned 
appeal,  no  cry  of  alarm  can  set  forth  the  danger 
of  delay  in  repentance,  the  immensity  of  the 
hazard  in  rejecting  the  offered  salvation  but 
once,  in  so  awful  a  light  as  it  is  seen  by  one 
earnest  look  at  the  cross,  one  distinct  and  full 
recognition  of  the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  in  the 
crucified  one  of  Calvary. 

The  cross  was  originally  the  symbol  of  the 
utmost  shame,  and  crucifixion  was  the  reality 
of  the  utmost  torture  that  the  world  could  in- 
flict. Christ  endured  both  the  shame  and  the 
agony,  because  he  knew  the  riches  of  the  glory 
of  the  inheritance  lost  by  sin  ;  he  knew  the 
greatness  of  the  ransom  that  must  be  paid  for 
the  recovery  of  the  forfeited  possession.  And 
there  is  nothing  on  earth  more  sorrowful  than 
to  see  men  anxious  to  secure  trifling  and  per- 
ishable possessions,  yet  indifferent  to  the  loss 
of  eternal  life ;  grateful  for  a  momentary  atten- 
tion from  a  human  friend,  yet  insensible  to  the 
infinite  generosity  of  the  Son  of  God  in  dying 
for  their  salvation. 

The  cross  teaches  the  great  lesson  of  trust 


334  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

and  consecration.  As  I  go  back  in  imagina- 
tion to  the  scene  of  the  great  sacrifice,  and 
mingle  in  the  company  that  stand  to  gaze,  me- 
thinks  I  hear  the  voice  of  some  one  spectator, 
more  serious  and  attentive  than  the  rest,  say- 
ing— "Is  this  in  very  deed  the  Son  of  God? 
And  is  it  for  my  sins  that  he  suffers  and  dies 
this  awful  death  ?  And  does  he  endure  all  this 
just  because  he  desires  to  save  me  from  all 
guilt  and  shame  and  suffering,  and  to  make  me 
blessed  forever?  Then  the  homage  of  my 
heart  and  the  service  of  my  hands  shall  be  his 
forever.  All  that  I  have  is  too  little  to  give  to 
one  who  so  loved  me  as  to  give  himself,  his 
whole,  divine,  eternal  self  for  me.  I  cannot 
trust  such  a  Saviour  too  much,  I  cannot  give 
myself  to  his  service  with  too  deep  a  devotion. 

"  Were  tlie  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 
That  were  a  present  far  too  small : 
Love  so  amazing,  so  divine. 
Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

And  a  believing  view  of  the  cross  may  well 
awaken  such  sentiments  of  trust  and  consecra- 
tion in  every  heart.  Christ  gives  himself  our 
ransom  from  sin  and  death.     Shall  we  think 


JERUSALEM.  335 

our  poor  unworthy  sehTs  too  much  to  give  for 
him?  He  suffers  for  us,  shall  we  refuse  to 
be  uiade  happy  in  his  service?  He  dies  for  us, 
is  it  too  much  for  us  to  live  for  him?  He  con- 
sents to  be  cruciiied  in  shame  that  we  may  be 
crowned  with  eternal  glory.  He  becomes  a 
servant  that  we  may  be  made  kings  unto  God 
and  reign  forever.  And  shall  men  choose 
everlasting  bondage  to  sin  and  death,  rather 
than  be  bound  to  Christ  in  bonds  of  love,  and 
live  with  him  in  the  glorious  liberty  of  a 
redeemed  and  blessed  immortality? 

The  cross  supplies  us  with  our  one  unfailing 
source  of  hope,  glory  and  joy.  Taking  the 
crucifixion  as  the  evidence  and  measure  of 
God's  sympathy  wdth  us,  there  is  no  depth  of 
affliction,  no  hour  of  darkness  and  temptation 
in  which  we  cannot  glory  and  rejoice.  This 
most  surpassing  revelation  of  the  divine  love, 
in  the  incarnation  and  suffering  of  the  Son  of 
God,  is  all  that  can  give  us  peace  and  triumph 
in  the  last  and  utmost  trial.  Take  the  cross 
from  Christianity  and  it  is  as  if  the  sun  were 
taken  from  the  day  and  the  stars  from  the 
night.     Without  the  cross  we  have  no  Father 


336  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

ill  heaven  to  draw  us  to  himself  with  the 
relentings  and  compassions  of  a  father's  heart; 
no  inheritance  of  everhisting  life  made  sure  for 
our  possession  when  the  frail  bark  of  our  suf- 
fering mortality  is  wrecked  upon  the  shores  of 
time ;  no  mansion  of  rest,  offering  repose  to 
the  weary  soul,  when  the  toil  and  the  conflict  of 
this  earthly  life  are  done.  AVithout  the  cross 
there  is  no  Friend  of  sinners  on  earth  and  no 
Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  of  heaven ; 
no  welcome  for  the  wanderer  who  would  re- 
turn to  the  path  of  duty  while  he  lives,  no  grace 
for  the  guilty  in  the  final  judgment.  With- 
out the  cross,  the  powers  of  darkness  are  un- 
conquerable, the  punishment  of  sin  is  inevita- 
ble, there  is  nothing  before  us  but  a  fearful 
looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation 
which  shall  devour  and  destro}". 

The  cross  alone  can  give  us  hope  and  vic- 
tory in  the  last  and  utmost  trial.  The  subtle- 
ties of  philosophy,  the  refinements  of  taste, 
the  difficulties  of  scepticism,  the  seductions  of 
pleasure,  the  indifi<erence  of  worldliness  are  idle 
mockeries  to  the  man  who  has  looked  upon  this 
world  for  the  last  time,  and  who  is  just  about 


JERUSALEM.  337 

to  know,  by  experience,  the  awful  secret  of 
death  and  eternity.  Even  then,  the  way  before 
him  shall  be  full  of  light,  and  he  shall  advance 
with  the  step  of  a  conqueror,  if  he  can  see  the 
cross  of  Christ  uplifted  on  the  distant  heights 
and  shining  through  the  gloom. 

On  a  summer's  day,  in  the  hottest  month  of 
the  year,  1  was  climbing  the  mountain  wall 
which  separates  the  Canton  Yallais  from  Uri 
in  Switzerland.  There  was  no  house,  no  human 
form,  no  voice  of  man  or  beast  to  relieve  the 
awful  desolation  around  me.  Nothing  broke 
the  deep  silence,  save  the  roar  of  the  torrents 
in  the  distance  below,  and  the  occasional  rush 
of  sliding  snows  from  the  heights  above.  The 
pine  groves  and  the  green  pastures,  where 
shepherds  kept  their  flocks,  were  far  beneath. 
In  every  direction  the  blue  dome  of  the  sky 
rested  upon  icy  peaks  and  walls  of  gleaming- 
snow.  In  every  direction  the  prospect  closed 
with  scenes  of  the  most  sublime  and  horrible 
desolation. 

Weary,  panting  for  breath  in  the  thin  air, 
heated  with  toil,  and  yet  chilled  with  blasts 
that  swept  from  the  winter's  eternal  throne,  I 

29 


338  WALKS    AND    HOMES. 

paused  many  times  to  rest  from  exhaustion, 
many  times  looked  back  longingly  towards  the 
green  valley,  where  the  "arrowy  Rhone"  rushed 
forth  a  strong  river  from  beneath  the  melting 
glacier;  many  times  I  gazed  upward  to  the  cold 
height,  which  seemed  to  lift  itself  away  into 
the  clouds  as  fast  as  I  labored  up  the  steep, 
while  every  fibre  of  my  Aveary  frame  protested 
that  I  could  climb  no  higher.  Many  times  I 
thought  how  fearful  a  thing  it  would  be  to  die 
there  alone ;  many  times  feared  that  it  had  been 
an  act  of  rashness  to  attempt  the  ascent  with- 
out a  guide  or  a  friend,  till  at  last  I  saw  before 
me,  and  but  a  few  steps  furtlier  on,  a  cross,  a 
high  firm  broad  cross,  standing  amid  desolate 
rocks  and  wintry  snows  ;  and 'I  knew  that  when 
I  reached  that  cross,  there  would  be  no  other 
height  to  climb,  and  beyond  was  a  descending 
and  easy  path,  to  beautiful  vales  and  laughing- 
streams  and  the  cheerful  homes  of  men. 

At  the  sight  of  that  cross,  standing  amid 
clouds  and  snow  to  mark  the  utmost  height  of 
the  pass,  I  felt  something  of  the  enthusiasm 
Avith  which  the  Romish  devotee  clasps  and 
kisses  the  symbol  of  the  world's  redemption. 


JEEUSALEM.  339 

And  as  I  passed  leisurely  and  joyously  on,  in 
my  subsequent  journey,  I  thought  many  times 
to  myself, — oh !  how  hard  it  is  to  climb  the  cold 
and  weary  mountains  of  separation  which  sin 
and  unbelief  have  raised  up  between  us  and 
the  blessed  cross  of  Christ.  How  determined 
and  persevering  the  exertion  that  we  must  put 
forth,  if  we  would  ever  reach  it.  And  when 
we  look  back,  how  inviting  the  beautiful  vales 
of  ease  and  self-indulgence  appear  in  the  dis- 
tance. But  once  reach  the  cross  and  the  great 
joy  begins,  the  great  conflict  ends.  At  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  the  penitent  and  believing 
soul  has  reached  the  higest  elevation,  above  all 
the  foes  of  his  peace,  and  he  thence  looks  forth 
a  king  and  a  conqueror,  upon  a  subject  world. 
The  devotees  of  earthly  pleasure  have  no  joy, 
the  sons  of  fame  no  triumph,  to  be  compared 
with  that  which  fills  the  weary  and  burdened 
sinner's  heart,  when  he  looks  for  the  first  time 
in  faith  upon  the  cross  of  Christ. 


THE    END. 


BS2420.M315 

Walks  and  homes  of  Jesus. 

Princeton  Theological  Semmary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00013  0619 


